


In The Dark

by intensedreams



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Assault, Swan Queen Week 2015, and some graphic violence, deals with PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-03-09 18:21:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 56,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3259727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intensedreams/pseuds/intensedreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pan is dead, his island and followers are not - even Pan had rules, and now that he is dead... what happens when Emma and Regina fail to make it to safety?<br/>Canon divergent from Neverland onwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to delve into a canon divergent Regina and Emma get captured kind of story for a while and dealing with the ramifications of that, and i'm planning on structuring it with flashbacks and present day stuff. I've labelled this with violence and it is a SQ story through and through, but i don't know how explicit it will be, so i will update things accordingly. Hood won't be mentioned but Hook is at some points, however they are unfavourable and used as a catalyst for SQ moments.  
> Comments are so welcome, please tell me what you think - i've been anxious about this story cos it's the longest one i've done. Feed the Bard <3

Emma runs. She runs like hell.

Leaves, branches, insects are all slapping her face, arms, legs as she tries to go faster through the dark mist.

She is fucking tired, sore, bleeding, and sucking air into burning lungs as she wills her legs to keep going – to keep carrying her forward. She frantically casts her gaze back to make sure Regina is keeping up. Stressed green meets pained brown, but she is there. She is still there. Emma turns and focuses on beating a path through the thick jungle. They need to get away. Adrenaline is _burning_ through her.

Pan is dead, thank fuck. They had gotten an unconscious Henry to safety via David and Snow, and then joined their magical mojo and killed him. She isn’t really sure how, it's all been a bit of a blur – but she trusts in Regina’s magical ability and her apparent 'supercharged true love' power to have done the job. She trusts in Regina’s assurance that he is not a threat any longer.

He is dead… But his followers… they are a different vicious matter. The death of their leader roused them into more violence – screaming, snarling ghosts in the trees. Lord of the flies meets Battle Royale. The jungle now seething rage and chaos as shadows are threats and everything is now a potential danger. There is no leader, there is no rules, even Pan had rules.

She ducks a threateningly low vine, glancing back to make sure the panting brunette doesn’t get tangled. Words of warning that they must go faster are met with an aggravated grunt as they weave and push themselves harder. She can hear the clamour of feet and shouts not far behind.

An agonised shout from Regina has her stumbling shakily to a halt and her heart shoots further into her throat. The other woman is down on the ground clutching her ankle and swearing, eyes finding Emma’s as she shouts for her to just _go!_ Of course Emma is back there before she really knows what she’s doing and heaving Regina up into her arms. Ignoring the incredulous look on the other woman’s face she’s gritting her teeth and telling her legs to start moving with the extra weight - moving forward once more.

They just need to get to the boat and they will be safe. Back to family. Back to more firepower. Back to their son.

Emma tries to block out the sounds of breaking twigs and chanting, closing in and in.  Her legs are straining and complaining, her back and arms screaming but she _will_ not give in to the desire to just collapse. She will _not_ let them down. She cannot let a bunch of rabid teenagers take them down. She’s trying her best to block out the brunette in her arms curling her arms around her neck to try and reduce the strain on her arms, hot breaths blasting onto her collarbone.   She’s trying her best to keep moving, faster, faster – she must go faster. They are fucking closing in and Emma’s throat is closing up and fear is fucking soaking into her mind. She must get the woman In her arms to safety – she won’t let Henry down. She’s only really just gotten her family back, there’s been no moments of peace. There was the Enchanted forest and then Cora and there’s been no stillness. No moments of retrospection. She can’t let go of that and she can’t let them down.  The air is crushing her. The dark is clawing at her. She forces herself forwards, one foot at a time, whispers and shouts of _kill kill kill_ echoing deafeningly in her pounding ears.

She _must_ get them out of here.

She must succeed.

She thinks she sees a glimmer of light ahead, dares to think _not far_ _not far_ before a dark shape looms up in front of her.

A pain in the back of her head, Regina’s panicked shout.

_No!_

All goes black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had some more, pretty much ready to go so here it is. I think the tenses are a bit wonky but i'm an impatient git so i will come back and fix if it needs fixing when i am not cross eyed from having 2 hours sleep last night :p

 

David had felt helpless before, but he had never felt hopeless. In all his years, that belief of 'things will be ok' had never deserted him. Ok, maybe once, if he was brutally honest, remembering The Evil Queen walking away from his cage - but that had worked out.  
  
But he could feel it now, the dead, cold inevitability of hopelessness seeping in through his pores. His heart growing heavier, hour by hour. He has been waiting with tense thoughts and tenser body, eyes roving the treeline for two welcome figures to come crashing through the foliage.  
  
A smooth hand slipped into his, startling his morose thoughts.  
  
"David, i'm scared."  
  
He had no words for his darling wife, no pep talk. His staple, some version of "we will always find each other" felt bitter and painful and in this situation wholly inappropriate.   
  
It had been three weeks since they had heard that agonized shout in the jungle - Regina's voice, coloured in panic and fear. Three weeks since they had charged towards that voice, weapons drawn, ready to protect and fight.  
  
Three weeks since they had found nothing but greenery and scuffed dirt. It hurt. It really hurt that they had not gotten there in time, that he had failed to protect his little girl. No matter that she was nearing 30 and they had not actually been able to spend much time together since actually getting to meet for the first time - Emma would always be his little girl. He had held her in his arms when she was minutes old, protecting her from flashing swords and ultimately, the dark woman who had plagued his time with Snow. Three weeks in which they had scoured the island - searching as long as the light held. Nothing. No trace of anyone other than the abandoned camps of the lost boys.  
  
Regina - wherever Emma was, he was certain she was too. He was worried for her too. He didn't know whether to be surprised about this or not but the emotion was there, and like everything connected to this strange life he found himself now leading - he just went with it.

Henry had been fraught when he woke up, screaming at them that they needed to save his moms. They were heroes, the good guys. Good was supposed to win. Tears had streamed down his young face and David’s heart had squeezed. Snow had tried to assure him that it would all be ok but the boy was inconsolable – Gold eventually laying a hand on his young shoulder to make him sleep once more.  
  
"They are here somewhere, Snow. We just need to have faith-" The words burned in his throat. Traitorous thoughts of  _you weren't quick enough - you failed her -_ echoing in his mind.  
  
Snow, darling Snow... His wife looked at him with those knowing eyes before slipping in close quicker than he could blink - her small frame fitting to him allowing him to lean infinitesimally on her. He shut his eyes, allowing himself the luxury of soaking in her warmth, before noting the footsteps coming up behind them.  
  
"Guys, i'm going to do another sweep before we settle down for the night," Ruby sighed. Everyone was affected by their lack of finding  _anything_. Hook stood behind her, eyeballing the tree's with no small amount of distrust.  
  
The boys had slowly materialized out of the treeline following Pans demise - Gold assuring them that's what the incredible burst of light was. Whispers of 'the others', 'the older ones' disappearing on them in the middle of the night sent a frisson of unease down David’s spine as he remembered the snarling rage - the vengeful ghostlike attacks they had endured for the first couple of nights. It had been after these fraught nights that one of the boys had approached Snow with the tremulous fear of an animal expecting pain, handing her a pouch of magic beans, before scuttling off back to the safety of his little herd of wide eyed and fearful ‘brothers’.  
  
Their small crew had returned to the island (plus a Ruby, minus a Gold) after depositing Henry and the lost boys back in the relative safety of Storybrooke. Since returning… there was no whispers in the trees, no _danger!_ shouts from his instincts, just the slithering unease and sighs from his comrades.  
  
David met Snow's gaze and nodded, more to himself than her. "We're coming too".  
  
They set off into the jungle, swallowed up in the green in minutes.

He just wanted his baby back.  
  
  
********  
  
It’s many hours later and David sat down heavily, leaning back against a tree. Snow snuck in close beside him, curling up. Ruby slouched across from them setting out a fireplace, not meeting his eyes and Hook... well who cared where the pirate had gone. He had explicitly stated he was only in this for some kind of  _reward_  - whoever it came from - and as the nearest royals they were his patrons.  
  
Another fruitless day spent wandering with no result. It was amazing how this island was warm and yet the coldest place he had ever been – like the sorrow of children missing their families could somehow become tangible. He tried to keep that sense of purpose, tried to desperately stuff himself with motivational thoughts but it was like trying to stem a head wound with a plaster.  
  
Ruby had sworn she could smell them on the wind but after a few false starts where she lost it again he had stopped reacting. Only Snow, dear Snow kept her eyes bright and her hand clasped to Ruby's shoulder, telling her friend she was doing a good job.  
  
They settle down for the long hours of darkness, the cold curling around them.  
  
Many hours later - David cursing his inability to sleep - Ruby sat up with a gasp and took off into the woods, crashing through the undergrowth with a strangled shout "It's them!"  
  
Galvanized into action in spite of himself he forces himself up, dislodging the disorientated Snow and tries to follow the brunette - follow her shouts of “this way”.

He stumbles through some bushes towards the raised voices and he can't believe it. He has to stop himself rubbing his eyes. She's there. She's safe - She looks like hell and Regina is propping her up but she's really there. Finally.  
  
She's dirty, her hair is a rats nest and she's got dried blood on her skin and she is so obviously clutching onto the brunette and in pain but her eyes are oh so bright and thirsty for them. In fact both of them are a mess, ripped clothes and scrapes and blood. He almost doesn't want to know if it's theirs or not.  
  
Tears bubble to the surface and he doesn't care, doesn't bother hiding them as he sweeps over and grabs her slender frame by her shoulders. He's tried to give her some space before now, knowing she is all grown up and not used to their attention but that consideration can take a hike right now. Snow is fussing, and crowing, and all sorts of mothery things towards their little girl and he can see her fading so he goes with instinct - he sweeps her up and tells her not to worry. She's safe. Regina is wheezing and clutching her sides but she stands away anyway, a brisk nod of thanks for relieving her of her burden. Ruby bounces about them in a flurry of noise and red but he can't really focus on anything other than the woman he is carrying.   
  
It's all a blur really. They make their way back to the boat, Hook materializing with a possessive glare that he doesn't like. Emma pretty much passes out whilst he carries her, head lolling against his chest. David spares a glance for Regina who, unsurprisingly, is snarling at any offers of help even though she is clearly in distress and in some level of discomfort. Snow has her eyes on her - concerned - he will never fully appreciate their relationship, he accepts. It's fairly straight forward for David - Regina tried to kill Snow so many times. Although somewhere in the back of his mind he does wonder why she didn't just snap her neck... she was so skilled at taking lives - why was Snow the exception? It's doesn't matter right now anyway. Emma is here, her chest is moving even though her eyes are shut - and they are back to the safety of the boat.  
  
He remains vigilant as they sail. Snow and Ruby don’t often stray far from Emma's sleeping form - she's not woken up yet. He ventures between making sure she is actually here with them and consulting with Hook to see how long the pirate thinks it will be until they are back in Storybrooke. He sees Regina, lurking in the shadows, up on deck, silent and alone by the prow and then sometimes she's straying near his daughter, a lost look in her eyes. She sometimes is startled and snaps back from being close to her if she's been left along in the room with Emma. She doesn't talk to anyone other than to shoo them away with a curt "I'm fine" and they obey. They are all tired, and still on edge. David puts these observations out his mind. Regina can look after herself.  
  
They are going home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return to Storybrooke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think :)

She’s home. Such as it is. The weather is grey and dank and there are big fat raindrops falling from the sky with as much enthusiasm as she feels right now. Everything feels grey and colourless apart from the almost painful kaleidoscope of light that is the small boy nestled against her front with his stick thin arms flung around her. And Emma - the woman currently swamped by her parents and various well-wishers a little distance away. She feels restless, and the sense that she is not _safe_ is lingering with irritating stubbornness. This is fair enough, she supposes, given what they have just been through. But she doesn’t want to dwell on the events of the past few weeks – they have been hellish and harrowing – she braces herself against the shudder that passes through her.

Instead, Regina focuses on her son whose head seems to reach higher on her body than she last recalls. He pulls his head away and smiles – actually _smiles_ – at her. It’s a testament to how rattled she is that her heart is not squeezing in her chest and she simply smiles back, able to for once, enjoy his delight without fear or anticipation of rejection any moment. She’s where she’s meant to be – home, with her son, Emma floating about but not too far away, Snow being irritating (although she has not actually said a word to Regina apart from the little thank you speech), David looking like Christmas and his birthday and world peace have all come at once. She is… ‘safe’… the word feels foreign and strange in her mind. She doesn’t _feel_ safe. Can’t quite shake the feeling of eyes on her and fingers skittering down her spine. She knows logically, Pan is dead. His influence cannot reach anyone now… His followers –

“Regina.”

It’s Emma, looking at her with some consternation. The blonde pauses a while… jaw muscles working, her hand twitching before it curls into a fist. Regina nods – gestures back to Emma’s family and nudges Henry towards his other mother. Regina swallows the kernel of anger at Henry going without question, although he does keep a hold of her hand as long as he can and throws a smile over his shoulder before going. Again. Always. But her son, as smart and grown up as he is, doesn’t need to be aware of her inner struggle to still not rage against the world at this. She has been doing so well. Had been doing so well… before. She also crushes down her initial reaction to such condescending statements. In his eyes, she is good, she is a hero. And she will endeavour to keep that faith in her up and not be too… difficult. After all, he has also had a… harrowing experience on the island, and although he has been back for far longer, he will still be bearing the cross of it for a while. She does wish she could ease that somehow but any method she would have employed would have them all looking at her again with unease and fear… though some of the townfolk do still look at her like that anyway.

Emma is still looking at her through the crowd, peering past her family. Her eyes are focused and dark, and it makes Regina want to fidget. She does not fidget. She _will_ not fidget under Emma’s gaze.

She turns and leaves them to it. These last few weeks will be carefully tucked away. She’s a survivor. She has survived. Emma is in once piece. That’s all that matters. They are ‘safe’.

*

Emma is standing in a daze as she watches Regina leave, the other woman’s back straight and shoulders set. She sighs. A dull ache settling in her stomach.

“Ma,” Her son pipes up, “Was it bad? How was Pan defeated? Will you tell me? Can we go to the diner? There’s so much to talk about! Did mom help you defeat him?” Emma reels a little before she feels Snow place her hand on her arm and resists the urge to throw her off. She closes her eyes again for a moment just to… just to try and centre herself with all these bodies and people and good vibes.

David, thank god, David - who is watching her with narrowed hawk eyes is the one to interrupt his family. Emma tries to convey her thanks with a simple glance to her father, but she isn’t sure if she has succeeded. He simply walks beside her. Snow falls in line on the other side, arm snaking out again to loop with Emma’s and again she has to violently supress the urge to lash out at her mother. She grits her teeth, eyes darting around her, but unable to really take much in whilst at the same time clocking everything. Emma spent the short walk answering monosyllabic answers to Henry’s peppering questions. She’s not paying attention to where they are going but soon they are at the entrance to the loft and David is holding the door open for her.

“Why don’t we all get into our laziest clothes, and eat. Just spent some time together?” Snow is busying herself in the kitchen, banging pots. The loud crashes of metal and plastic are setting Emma’s teeth on edge. She tries to smile, she really does. Tries to force herself to remember that this is home, this is safe and safe meant there were no-

“Emma, won’t you come sit down with me so we can talk?” Henry interrupts her mental monologue, his clear trusting eyes looking up at her and making her throat want to close up. She can feel her pulse pounding with startling clarity, her palms sweating.

“Um.” She fumbles, wanting to sit with her son, reassure him. She is supposed to be this pillar of confidence and strength but right now? She really just wants to go upstairs and hide. She doesn’t want to face the inquisition she knows is coming, between Henry’s natural inquisitiveness and Snows almost cloying attempts at mothering her. She shuffles over to where her son is patting the cushioned surface of the sofa and smiling, beatific and beautiful. God she just wants to run. To curl up, a warmer body behind her. God she wants-

“Emma, would you like some tea?” The blonde is thankful, even in this fraught situation for the interruption. She turns from Henry, from sitting down to the well-meaning interrogation and moves towards the promise of food.

She is fucking hungry.

Perching on a stool, she nods quickly and, looking over her shoulder she sees Henry looking not so happy. She beckons him over to sit at the centre island.

Fuck.

Island.

_Fuck!_

She shuts her eyes and grits her teeth as her heart suddenly jumps. Her pulse begins to hammer and her breath feels restricted.

An echo of her name is what forces her to open her eyes and she sees the concerned eyes and furrowed brows of Snow, Henry. David comes up behind her, startling her. Emma launches off the stool and stumbles to the steps, grasping onto the rail for dear life. She shuts her eyes again, briefly. Focuses on her breathing, trying like hell not to panic. She recognises this for what it is – a panic attack. She’s seen it enough times on perps.

“Emma? Are you alright?” Snow, touching her elbow causes her to flinch once more.

“I’m fine,” She stammers out, trying to smile. “I’m just really tired guys…” She tries not to feel guilt for lying or shame for not being strong here but with all of them _looking_ with concern it’s making her want to vomit and cry and possibly tear her nails from her fingers. Emma has never dealt well with concern. “I’m just going to go to bed, if that’s all right.” She tries to smile reassuringly, but is aware it comes off as more as a grimace.

Snow takes a deep breath, moving to block Henry from view, “Do you want me to bring something up?” the she murmurs, eyes searching Emma’s tense face. Emma gives a small nod, and tries to convey that she is so _sorry_ for being like this, but frankly, she just needs to go. So she does. She moves off, up the stairs, singularly focused on getting her back against the inside of her bedroom door.

The pale wood is cool and calm against her back. The window is slightly open, the sound of wind rustling past offers nothing but knives so she crosses swiftly and shuts it, breathing deeply as she rests her forehead against the glass. Turning, Emma moves the bed, sits, and reaches to switch the lamp on. A small modicum of peace trickles into her system as she assesses the room, and she lets out a shuddering breath.

Her eyes dart to the door as a soft knock reaches her ears. Snow opens it slowly and tentatively pokes her head in, a plated sandwich proffered through the gap in the door.

“I’m sorry,” Emma starts brokenly. She holds her hands in front of her, fidgeting as she tries to elaborate but there are no words right now. She bites her lip and sighs, looking down.

Snow opens the door a little more and slips into the quiet room. She places the plate on the bed and pauses for a moment. Emma cannot look at her, she feels pathetic. She can feel Snow’s eyes on her and is bracing herself for words or contact. She wills her mother to go away. Remembers her parents words in Neverland – another baby – Emma needed her to leave so she could figure out how to not fall apart and go back to being Emma Swan: Bad ass, and worthwhile. Not Emma Swan: really fucking fragile and confused and quite possibly suffering from PTSD. Emma starts anyway, at that realisation.

PTSD.

Ah.

Makes sense.

“What the hell happened?” Snow is now crouching in front of Emma and has her hands clasped in front of her, in full view.

Emma’s throat constricts at the words. She shakes her head. She can’t. She can’t talk about it here.

Won’t talk about it. Not with her family. Not with the people who look at her as The Saviour. Not with her son who still looks at the world in terms of good and bad.

Snow nods slowly, she doesn’t press, thankfully. Emma thanks all the things that her mother has decided to leave things be right now. She quietly offers a “Goodnight,” before turning.

Emma’s hand shoots out with a deep breath, tugging Snow back around. She meets those soulful, kind eyes which always look at her with such depth that it normally makes Emma quail. It does make her quail a little. “Thank you.” The words are quiet, fragile, but Snow nods eagerly, a small smile appearing on her face. Emma feels a little better at this reaction.

Snow leaves her to her own devices, advising softly that she’ll check on her in the morning and to sleep well. Henry will sleep on the couch, and for this, Emma feels more guilt. For tonight though, he can manage she decides feeling selfish. She’ll thing on things more tomorrow. For now? She is so tired, exhausted. Both from all the expectation to be strong and steady from the town, her family, and from her experiences in the last few weeks. She doesn’t bother to undress - throws herself into the bed, relishing the soft feeling of _everything_ , and ignores the fact that she could really do with a shower.

It had been painfully embarrassing to find out that Ruby and Snow had cleaned her up on the voyage back. No self-respecting adult wants her friend and her mom to see them like that, but it wasn’t like she’d had a say in the matter. From the throngs of words that have been thrown at her since she woke up, she’d pieced together that she had been in quite a state. Regina and her, both a mess of bruises and blood. She couldn’t remember clearly, just remembered bone deep tiredness and pain.

_Regina._

Emma instinctively turns onto her side and curls her knees up to her chest, staring at the night sky out the window. Was she ok? Regina had probably gone home, burned the clothes on her back and showered before deigning to let the island touch her sheets. Emma braces herself for a reaction to that word as she thought it – focuses on deep breaths in through her nose as her hands involuntarily clench. She sighs. Regina always looks after herself better than she does.

She tries to focus on the sensation of the cotton sheets touching her bare toes if she wriggles them, focuses on the pliable give of the mattress. The lack of deep dark and stone. The smell of vanilla that seemed to permeate everything in this apartment. The gentle burr of voices from downstairs.

Restless, but oh so very tired, Emma falls asleep trying to remind herself where she is.


	4. Chapter 4

Regina  sits, back to the  cold stone,  her eyes are closed . She is listening intently. Waiting. Shivering.

_ No wait, take me! _

She clenches her fists as she goes over it . Again.

Dammit Emma!

_ She had woken up sprawled face down on the hard ground, sore, confused. Her head was pounding from where she'd been hit  to knock her out. It was dark, it smelt... damp, and musty.  She'd raised her head, casting about for Emma, taking in her surroundings.  Emma was bleeding  from her head , the red liquid staining her hair  in a demonic halo .  Heart suddenly pounding , she had crawled to the blonde and tried to assess the damage. Emma was breathing.  Good. She grasped the prone woman and pulled her with a little effort  onto her side . Emma flopped over , her limbs loosely moving  to  either side of Regina's thighs .  There was a shallow graze just behind her ear, the hair around it matted and tangled in red .  Regina took off her jacket and pressed the sleeve  to the blondes head , tucking the rest of the black material under as a pillow .  She p ressed and pressed and willed the wound to just  stop. _

_ The stupid,  brave  idiot. Emma coming back for her  when Re gina shouted at her to run, to save herself. The infuriating  idiot,  clearly already falling apart -  clearly  struggling as it was - bending down and hefting Regina into her arms like it was nothing . Except it was , it was survival, and terror, and Emma and her infuriating  saviour complex.  _

_ Regina tried her best to ignore the chorus of emotion that sprang up at the actions of the blonde. The tight feeling of something she didn't easily recognise at someone coming for her, putting themselves in danger for  her.  Emma had done it recently as well - hunting for her when  Mendall  had her. Emma and her family.  Family.  Snow sitting by her side as she slept, David and his steady words and steady presence. The faint memory of waking up pressed back against a warm body and blonde hair tumbling over her shoulder. It was alien and it was frightening. But not as frightening as the current situation right now. _

_ They were in some kind of dank... cell... Roughly hewn rock and solid looking bars criss-crossed the opening - a burning torch off out of sight down the cave like corridor threw some gentle light into their prison. There was wall... and floor. And a bucket. Regina's lips instinctively curled in disgust. Surely not... she looked back to the unconscious woman. At least she was breathing.  _

_ Regina's heart sank as she tried to call her magic and... nothing . She let out a sigh of harsh frustration. She hadn’t noticed the dark  cuff on her arm before. Emma had one fit snugly to her wrist too. _

_ Well... Shit. _

_ " R'gina ." _

_ Her heart flew into her mouth as the blonde began to stir, face going through a whole roster of emotions before settling into a deep frown.  _

_ "Stay lying down Emma, you have a head wound.Y ou need to stay flat for a while. OK?" The other woman's smoothed out momentarily as Regina spoke. _

_ " M'kay . " Her face slacked out again as she slid back into unconsciousness, apparently comfortable enough to just listen to Regina without argument. It was comforting. It was worrying. _

_ They were quiet for a while, Regina unable to get away from the mantra  of 'thank you thank you thank you' to whatever higher power there was that Emma was apparently competent in the face of head trauma, however minor . She didn't relish  ever having to talk to Henry about Emma being injured or worse. _

_ She considered the sleeping woman, lifting the cloth carefully. The bleeding did appear to have stopped. Her shoulders dipped in relief, sucking in a deep breath. Her head would need some kind of bandage - padding. She knew from a lifetime ago, from leading armies into bloody battles, that head wounds  were not to be trifled with. Emma needed to be careful.  _

_ Regina settled back, her back aching a little from too many nights sleeping rough and bending over Emma at an awkward angle. She stayed in the little nook created by Emma's curled body, acutely aware of the blondes steady breathing. _

_ So where were they?  _

_ What did their captors want ?  She imagined it wouldn't be anything pleasant.  Revenge? Vengeance for their leader?  How did  men  come to be on the island? They were just supposed to be boys.  _

_ She remembered the frantic struggle to escape - running, running as fast as she could - she remembered dark faces with darker intent materializing out of the trees. Out of the black of night. Blades and malevolent eyes  glinting in the bright moonlight. _

_ If they were being held here by a group of angry vengeful men... Regina clenched her jaw as fear pooled in her stomach.  _

_ No...  Sans magic, they were pretty  defenseless . Emma could pack a mean punch, she had first hand experience of that - and Regina was not bad either but neither of them were really equipped for a fight. Those gleaming blades, cruel edges  sharpe ne d . Regina shuddered. _

_ On impulse, she reached out to draw a strand of hair back from Emma's peaceful face. It surprised Regina to realize she wanted the other woman to talk to about this. Her relationship with Emma had changed drastically over the past few months. The curse breaking.  T he blondes trip to the Enchanted Forest -  the blonde calmly stating she wasn't dying, the blonde pushing her out of harms way.  Screams of 'he's my son', anger, festering, black.  Cora.  Sorrow. Greg. Pain. Unimaginable pain. Hearing Emma's name. The flood of hope as she realized  someone  was coming for her. Henry. Rage, fear, terror.  _

_ Now. _

_ It was such a lot to deal with, and really, she knew she hadn't dwelt on any of the events of the past while in any great detail. Things either being too painful or too fraught. And now?  _

_ She didn't know what was going to happen to them but it wasn't going to be good. _

_ Regina tried to focus on Emma's breathing again. She needed her to wake, she needed Emma's particular ability to distract her and help her  focus. She needed Emma. _

_ She looked up sharply at the loud soun d of boots echoing towards them suddenly - a  frission  of fear trickling down her spine as loud male voices reached the cell.  Emma pushed herself up on her arms, groaning as she did, which had Regina looking  down  at her in concern before returning to the bars. _

_ "Well  well , awake are we?" A giant of a man, clad in hair and leather and cruel metal walked into view. He grasped the bars, peering at the two speculatively. "Your Majesty, we are bored... you are our entertainment."  _

_ Regina froze, breath rushing out of her lungs .  _

_ No. _

_ Other men joined the first, the light cast by the lone torch making their faces into ominous  blurs _

_ " What do you want with us?" Regina closed her eyes as Emma's voice croaked. "What are you going to do with us?" _

_ Emma stood, she touched a hand tentatively to the back of the head before turning fully to their captors.   The swagger that Regina normally associated with the blonde was returning.  Good. _

_ Except that Regina noticed the blondes fist tucked slightly behind her, out of the view of the men... and it was shaking. Not good.  Anxiety clawed it's way up Regina's throat as she rose looked between their jailors and the apparent solid stance of the saviour. _

_ The man in front smiled,  dirty and  unpleasant  "The Queen is coming with us. " He nodded to his comrades, watching as it was unlocked and three of them entered. _

_ "No she's not!" Regina gaped as Emma growled  and backed up to Regina, her arms  out protectively.  _

_ The three men closed  in.  It was all happening too fast for her to really process. She was shoved and jostled and pulled.  Deafening shouts and grunts and Emma's  distinct cries of pain -  Regina hit out at the nearest  one but it was like a fly trying to batter down an elephant and she found herself held with her arms pinned painfully behind her back. "Let's go little lady," he growled, breath putrid, teeth broken. Emma let out an enraged shout and dodged the two engaged with her. Regina was dropped  from the painful hold as Emma swung her arm  and the man... actually went down. It had all happened in a flash and Regina found herself pressed  back against  hard stone with Emma breathing heavy in front of her again. _

_ "No , wait !" _

_ The blonde  drew up her head, taking a deep breath.  " T ake me instead, I'll give you a better show than she  will ." Emma st ood  up tall, face hard and challenging.  _

_ God damn, if she was going to let Emma do this  agai - _

_ "Suit yourself." _

_ "Emma, no!" Regina gasped,  grabbing the blonde's arm .  She wasn't letting the woman do it again. Not again. _

_ Emma, head down, pulled her arm from Regina's grasp and exited the cell. One of the faceless men held his arm front of the brunette, preventing her from following. She kept her eyes on the blonde as she passed down the corridor out of sight, fists still shaking. _

Re gina winces as a sharp pain draws her back to the present. She carefully unfurls her fingers, inspecting the red half-moon imprints on her palms.

Where was Emma? What were they doing to her? She brings her knees up, tightly hugging them.

What the hell were they going to do?

* * *

_ Dark. Teeth. Shining metal. Masculine laughter. Bodies. Heart racing, head pounding - ducking, swinging. Falling to the ground. A n elbow  to the face. A boot to the ribs. Spitting blood. Her fist crunching a nose with some satisfaction . Howls of pain. More laughter. _

_ "Look she's holding her own." _

_ "She's doing not bad."  _

_ "Scrawny bitch like that should be easy enough." _

_ "She's fast though - " _

_ "Shit, that was Markus's nose - " _

_ A scream of metal and a scream torn from Emma's throat. _

Emma bolts upright, pulse pounding in her ears. Sh e gulps at the cool nights air, hands fisting painfully tight in the sweat soaked sheets.

Shit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence and Hook. (really sorry bout the wait!)

Emma starts and skitters along the wall on instinct, limbs sharp and uncoordinated, trying to get away from whatever has woken her.

Henry topples backwards with a cry of surprise from where he was crouched.

“Emma,” He says quietly, his voice catching as his eyebrows knit and he rights himself and scrambles forward – arm stretching out, fingers splayed, eye’s wide.

Emma’s heart sinks and tries to shoot out her throat all at once as the hurt and concern is all mingling on her too-young-to-have-to-see-this son’s expressive face. Deep breaths she reminds herself, nostrils flaring as her chest heaves and she forces herself to remain still as he edges forward slowly, shame clawing at her belly. She feels the adrenaline from being startled galloping through her in a familiar heart pounding way and closes her eyes, her arms coming up to hold her knees to her chest. It’s overwhelming and ridiculous and shameful and she’s gritting her teeth and shaking.

Small tentative fingers touch her kneecap and she gasps as a soft “Ma” breaks from his young mouth.

He doesn’t move any further though, and he doesn’t move his hand. Emma’s pulse is still pounding in her ears and her breath whistles through her teeth as she focusses on her chest and it’s shaky rising and falling. She blesses him and thanks everything that he doesn’t talk, doesn’t push her, just sits listening to the soundtrack of her breathing gradually becoming less harsh.

She opens her eyes and meets his furrowed brows, his set jaw, pursed lips. He is all Regina.

“Henry… I…” She lets out an exasperated breath as she just _can’t_ seem to summon appropriate words. She is meant to be soothing him and explaining things but she can’t fucking do that because _she_ doesn’t really know how to explain everything. Shouldn’t have to. Won’t. She shakes her head and smiles weakly.

Henry, her beautiful son, literally the biggest light of her life, smiles back, his forehead smoothing out. “Emma, it’s ok. You are home and safe.” Bless his attempts at soothing her, at calming her.

She forces out a chuckle, “Yeah, kid? I guess so.”

“Why were you sleeping on the floor?”

Emma suddenly realises she’s backed against the wall of her room under the window, her arm kind of tingling with awareness after her head resting on it all night. Just like back – Nope, she steers her thoughts back to her son, smiling a bit easier now.

“I don’t know kid.”

His face becomes serious, “Emma – don’t lie to me,” his tone becomes wheedling, “I know that that whatever happened on the island was _bad.”_ He mouths the last word softer, as though it’s a secret and like he understands that everyone is starting to tiptoe around the subject. “But, it’s _me,_ and I just want to help.” He whispers, trailing off to an imperceptibly quivering lower lip and Emma’s heart feels like it’s being crushed.

She covers his hand with her own, rubbing her fingertips on the bony bump on his wrist. He’s always been so skinny since he came into her life, she mused, like what she remembered being like when she was his age and clothed in mended, second hand clothes and ill-fitting shoes. “You are helping me Henry,” She implores, gripping his hand. “I just… can’t talk about it yet. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to,” he nods at her slowly, his other hand coming up to swipe at his eyes.

Emma chews her lip, hating herself for being the cause of her son’s distress. Hates the stupid motherfucking island and what it’s done to her, what it’s made her do. “You want to do something for me though?” His eager bobbing of his head makes her chuckle more easily this time. “You want to go get Snow to make us pancakes?”

Henry’s smile is beatific in that moment and Emma feels the bands around her chest release and her body relax. Thank goodness.

He pulls his hand from hers and bounces up and leaves her to it.

Emma sits back, straightens her legs, contemplates her socks. Little multi-coloured birds peer back at her. Shaking her head at what is clearly a Mary-Margaret fashion choice she picks herself up and turns to look out the window.

Was Regina alright? She had considered asking Henry to check on his other mother but had asked for pancakes instead – it wasn’t fair to ask him. After their not really goodbye at the docks she felt… uncertain. And that just felt wrong after the last few weeks. She casts her head about for her phone, instinctively slaps her pocket but then pauses. Her phone was lost on Neverland.

That will be that then.

She had slept restlessly after that nightmare and she couldn’t get off to sleep again. Eventually she’d given up and dragged herself out of the bed. Having spent so long sleeping in vastly different circumstances, and she feels herself actually craving the familiarity of cold stone contrasting with a warm body pressed against her. It was unsurprising that she’d ended up curled up against the wall, no covers, after hours of waking and tossing and turning on the comfort of the mattress. The blonde bit at the inside of her cheek and looked down at her colour clad feet again, sighing. She was wary of thinking about the island, noting that every time she did she felt her pulse start to race and her thoughts started to fracture. Focussing on the softer side of it was apparently ok though.

Snow’s voice floats up from downstairs, disrupting Emma’s thoughts, drawing her downstairs with the scent of coffee and the sound of sizzling batter.

 

* * *

 

It’s supposed to be a celebration of her returning home, a celebration of good triumphing over evil. The hero’s winning. Emma’s teeth are grit because it’s _such_ bullshit. She loves her parents, but it sets her teeth on edge when they spout the good vs evil words of wisdom. And why was Regina not here? Why was there not an “AND REGINA” taped up beside her name in garish colours?

She’s on edge, annoyed, pissed off. Possibly quite drunk as well. Never a good combination.

And she’s supposed to be having a good time in here, everyone else is. Emma tosses back another shot. It’s overbearingly loud and crowded in here and Emma is counting down the moments until she can gracefully bow out before embarrassing herself.

She’d managed to escape earlier in the day, avoiding Snow’s hawk like gaze and not accepting Henry’s pleas of being able to stay off school. No way.

The blonde had found herself wandering aimlessly, fists rammed into her jean pockets which were looser now. She’d walked to the marina, past the school, just walked. Before she realised where she was, her knuckles rapped loudly against white wood.

The light reflecting off the shiny 108 dazzled her momentarily causing her to rock back slightly on her heels.

No answer.

“Regina,” She called, knocking again, harder. Where else would she be?

Emma started to feel like a fool, hanging out here on the empty doorstep. Why was Regina hiding herself away? She didn’t understand. She just wanted to talk.

“Emma, how are you feeling?” The blonde blinks herself back to the diner, focussing on Archie’s friendly features softly regarding her. She swallowed and he nodded. “Are you holding it together?”

Clearing her throat, she grins sheepishly at the therapist. He seems to understand, with a sage nod. “You know if you ever need to talk, you know where I am, ok? No rush, no pressure.”

Emma nods again, forcing a grin on her face again, flashing him a wink that probably looks as fake as her leather jacket before she turns away, eager to escape. Granny is looking at her, unperturbed, before nodding her head at a glass of water sitting on the bar beside Emma. Swiping the cool glass and taking a sip to appease the older woman, Emma sidled her way around the crowd of bodies crammed into the diner. The closeness of everyone and the _noise_ – Oh! – The noise, it was starting to crackle In her ears and she could feel her heart picking up. She wanted out, away, into the quiet. Emma could hear her name being called as she made her way to the corridor leading to the toilets – the quiet would help her calm down. Just a few more people to pass and she’d be able to breathe – be able to think! Emma smiles at her dad, not caring that it comes out more of a grimace and presses past him.

Almost there –

“Hey love-“

A ripple of tension and unease slides through Emma – Hook – the scent of leather and rum hanging off him like a heavy cloth sways closer, his eyes focussed on her own and her palms begin to sweat.

“Emma, you are avoiding me,” he slurs, handsome face pushing into Emma’s space, his breath hot on her face and his dark frame crowding her towards the wall. It’s too warm and Emma’s palms are sweating and she can feel the tightness in her chest as she swallows and tries to look at Hook – tries to tell him to move, to _please god please_ move because she doesn’t want this situation _._ All she can do is look at the floor though as she tightens her fingers into a fist and wills the persistent man to actually use his eyes for once and see that she is just not -

All she sees is the flash of metal and fingers digging a touch too hard into her arm and the next thing she knows is the pain in her knuckles as they crash into Hooks face – All she sees, all she feels is roaring beat of her heart in her ears and air catching in her throat as her fist crunches cartilage. She throws herself at the dark man. She screams. She pushes at him, throwing him back – a mess of snarling rage and adrenaline. She cries out as she’s hauled back by someone strong whilst she strains to get back at the man on the floor, seeing him _down_ sensing a moment to _defeat!_ To take out another threat!

Surging forward Emma She tears herself from the hold on her arms and falls back down on Hook, howling and clawing, gouging, punching again and again – doing as much damage as she can before the man can get back up and tear at her – she has to keep herself safe – has to keep _Regina_ safe from the cruel eyes and hands and minds that only wanted to toy and rip and play with bared teeth and hard eyes. She feels her fingernails pierce skin and relishes the scream that pierces her ears as she pummels his ribs and she almost breathes a sigh of relief as she knows – she _knows_ – she has done damage enough to keep him down for a while so she can breathe or finish him or –

“Emma!”

She’s being roughly jerked back again, stumbling back against the solid chest of her Dad as she suddenly realises where she is and what she is doing.

She’s in the diner with people she knows, she’s supposed to be in a safe place, not in some horrific violent nightmare.

Shame and horror clouds her senses as she starts to feel deeply sick – looks at her hands. Red, so much red – red on her palms, slick between her fingers and on Hooks face and neck. Red on the floor and flecks on the wall. The iron smell feels like it’s being forced up her nostrils and she is too damn hot. She feels sick, so deeply sick. In fact she’s going to hurl. Emma grunts as she collapses out of her father’s grasp onto her knees, palms slipping about smearing blood as she feels the acid burn of vomit climbing up her throat.

And now she is kind of throwing up on Hook and it’s strangely gratifying although she doesn’t know why.

The next thing Emma is aware of is the cold air hitting her face as she flees the diner. Her booted feet hit the sidewalk in frantic rhythm as she just _runs_. She runs and the air in her face is so good – it’s clearing her head, making her vision less fractured – slowing her thoughts. She sucks in deep lungful’s of clean crisp night air and relishes the burn in her thighs as she flies.

She’s banging on Regina’s door again before she knows it – fist leaving rusty marks marring the pristine white of the door. She’s shouting and telling Regina that she knows she’s in there – knows she’s hiding from the world because it’s what she wants to do and they are not that alike.

Regina opens the door, all tired and soft and wrapped up in white cotton. She’s looking at Emma with dark eyes that are the deep and knowing – eyes that bore right through everything that she is. Emma steps forward and falls to her knees - head falling forward to rest against the other woman’s belly.

And she breathes.

She calms.

She cools.

She feels Regina’s slender fingers hesitating before threading themselves through her wild tresses.

She breathes.

And bursts into tears.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the continued support guys, I appreciate so much :) I've got a few weeks off so i'm hoping to get this moved on a bit more than it has been :)  
> If you have any thoughts or suggestions i'd love to hear them.

_Regina jerks awake as the sound of boots and laughing and something being dragged creates a ruckus outside the cell. She’s cold and stiff and pining for her 1000 count Egyptian cotton sheets. She’s craving her Guatemalan coffee she brews every morning come rain or shine. She’s daydreaming of her fairly bland granola mix she eats every morning without fail. She’s missing the scent of home._

_She can’t help but gasp and instinctively lift a hand to her mouth as two brutes drag Emma in, her lower legs trailing along the ground, her hair muddy and streaked with blood. Her face is slack and she’s being pulled like a sack of potatoes, no care given as her knees impact against small stones and the uneven tears in the rocky flooring. The men dump her in the middle of the cell, laughing raucously as she slumps forward and her head hits the ground with a disconcerting thud. Their crude amusements echo after them down the tunnel as they leave the two women._

_Regina is beside her in a flash, hauling her over, fingers jabbing into Emma’s neck in her haste to find a pulse and she can’t find one in her panic which causes her to stop – to slow down and breathe. She presses her fingers under Emma’s jaw, feeling for the carotid and huffs out a sigh of relief when she finds a strong stubborn pulse. She smoothes her hands over Emma’s face, pushing back messy, dirty hair and shakes her head at the relaxed features of the blonde. There’s a slight split in her lower lip – matching the scar in Regina’s top one – she lets out a small snort of amusement but the gravity of everything clamps down on that quickly enough._

_She doesn’t know what she’s feeling, an ambivalent mess of irritation and gratitude. It’s been an age since someone properly stood up for her, the last person to really do it being the last person to see her as just… her - not some other mask that she presented to the world, be it Mayor or Monarch. And that last person was killed without mercy. These people have no mercy. The parallel is not lost on Regina although she purses her lips and pushes this train of thought away. Emma has once again stood up for her, it’s becoming a habit. She doesn’t know really what to do with this information, annoyed at the blonde for making her feel this unidentifiable tangle of emotions._

_Regina sighs and sets to checking over the rest of the unconscious woman – she gently prods at the blondes ribs, cringing each time in preparation for a groan or a reaction of anything but fortunately, there appears to be no breaks. That seems the most obvious injury a fight would inflict on someone. Casting her eyes over the rest of the woman she pauses before contemplating the hem of the light top Emma has been wearing for days now – it’s dirty and torn and there are flashes of pale skin peeking through. She pulls it up, clearing her throat, and takes in the bruises already forming and the ugly gash on her side which has been crudely sewn up with jagged lines marring the softly defined abs._

_She sits back on her heels and looks at the roughly hewn ceiling. It seems their captors want them in one piece, vaguely preserved for longer use._

_Emma scrunches up her mouth and nose as Regina realises she’s grazing her thumb over the blondes cheek and she’s looking at her again. The blonde starts to make slight noises in the back of her throat as she comes back to awareness and all Regina can do is just sit by her side as she opens her eyes and mouth and cries out whilst clutching her side._

 

* * *

 

“Grandpa,” Henry pipes up from behind his overflowing bowl. David stops washing the dishes and slings the towel over his broad shoulder and turns. Henry. David will never quite get over the marvel of his heart clenching – in a good way – when he considers his grandson. It’s the same, but not quite, as when he claps eyes on his beautiful darling daughter. Because Henry is not his, no, well he is in a way, but really – he is Emma’s – and he is so good and pure and _of_ Emma which almost makes him better. More. He’s not sure. But now he is rambling in his head and he’s missed whatever Henry has just asked.

He moves to lean against the island, his tall frame bending as he rests his arms on the surface. “What was that Henry?”

“I said,” The boy takes another spoonful of his cereal and almost rams it in his mouth before hesitating and putting it back in his bowl, “I said, what’s going on with ma?”

David’s face drops for a split second before he is trying hard to keep it strong – because really, what _is_ Emma going through? He can deduce that some pretty awful things have happened on the island – she’s flinching like some kind of abused animal most of the time.

And then she hit Hook. Really hit him. A lot – like a wild animal - and he’d had to drag her off, her lean frame flailing in anger as she struggled against him. She’d been hissing and spitting like an angry cat, claws and teeth out. It had taken some effort to wrest her from Hooks fallen body, the sight of blood making David grit his teeth and hold her tighter. Not that _that_ helped at all – Emma just fought harder until she had ripped herself from his grasp with a grunt and had vomited. Then she’d flown out the door of the diner  without looking back– the wooden door slamming shut with a deafening bang and rattle of blinds and sign.

“Your mother, Henry…” David bites the inside of his cheek as he considers what to say and draws a blank. “When we found them, they were a mess.” Henry's brows furrow as he scrunches up his little face.

“A mess?”

“Yes. Emma was covered in dirt and blood. Regina…” David struggles for a moment to remember what Regina looked like – there’s the barest _plink_ of guilt before he mentally shrugs that off – she’d been a mess too. Dirty. Tired. Haunted.

Regina’s eyes had always been the gateway to her soul, or at least in the time he’d known and been face to face with her – he’d always been able to read people.

He guesses it comes from raising animals for so long – non-verbal communication makes up so much.

Regina had always been an open book – to him anyway. Not that he often paid attention to her to be quite honest.

Regina had been haunted, and dirty. Matted straggly hair – she’d been walking stiffly, her jaw tensing with every movement and her nostrils flaring. She’d been all jagged edges and aggression except from where she was propping up his daughter. The glorious radiance of seeing Emma alive and in one piece had eclipsed everything else since really. He wondered, briefly, what Regina was doing with herself.

“Grandpa…”

“Regina was in the same state. Both of them were… a mess Henry.” David holds up both hands as he straightens. “Both looked like they’d been through hell and back. They've both been through a lot.” He regretted his words as he considered Henry’s young face – bottom lip trembling ever so slightly, eyes wide like saucers.

Henry swallows, “So, they were hurt?” His voice is the barest whisper. David’s heart feels like it’s being squeezed. No child should have to deal with their parents being in pain.

“Do you know what, Henry?” He smiles and moves around the island to clap a hand on his grandsons narrow shoulder. “They are both here, safe and sound now. That’s what really matters.” Henry smiles and nods, satisfied for the moment and scoots off to the couch and grabs a comic.

David sighs and fishes his phone out – he feels the need to call _someone_. There’s a terse message from Emma, her laconic style of texting drawing a slight smile.

She was fine. She was at Regina’s.

David relays this to Henry, smiling encouragingly.

He’s torn between respecting them and just supporting them and morbid curiosity to know exactly what happened but he’s better than that – David will just be there in whatever way he can for his family in this strange time, and he will try to reign in Snow's naturally curious side as well as he senses Emma can't deal with prying right now.

 

* * *

 

Henry sits on the battered couch, legs curling under him as he opens his comic. He’s way behind, having lost an interest for a while there with Operation Cobra and Neverland and everything in-between. How did his mom get updated comics into Storybrooke? He flicks through the familiar shapes and lines, a nostalgic smile ghosting his lips as he remembers afternoons discussing the finer points of villains and plots and superpowers with his mom.

He’s feeling a little guilty – comic books are always first to tell you there is some kind of tragic back-story, and he’s spent so long raging against his mom in suspicion and some fear that he has completely forgotten that she has her own back-story, as edited as he thinks the version he knows is.

All he really knows is that Emma and his mom are home safe. They are here. He’s not afraid of them running away or trying to kill someone. He’s feeling a little more settled than normal. But still. It’s not back to normal. And he’s remembering the cloying fear that sat at the back of his throat during his time with Pan. The slow leeching of hope, the ever so slight wavering of his normally _un_ wavering faith in the good in life… the jubilance of getting that message from his moms and Snow… Pan just _messing_ with him.

He views the whole thing with the uncertainty of someone who feels like they shouldn't be fond of something. Henry sighs. He guesses he's just a little mixed up about everything and it will all work itself out. He knows it will with the faith born of the truest believer.

He turns the page, smiling at the images. He remembers his mom crowing with delight at this bit. He wonders if she is ok. He's not really seen her since the all got back - being ushered off by Emma and David. He should maybe go over. He's unsure on what exactly to do. His mom had always been standoffish when it came to her own feelings, she was the impenetrable fortress of calm and dignity - at least in more recent memory that was. He remembers her taking her heels off and swaying to music with him - its like an old grainy film but he remembers – getting silly and doing fast paced jigs before sweeping him up and waltzing with him. She always curtsied afterwards saying “Thank you, my little Prince,” and he would bow deeply... then they'd laugh like idiots at themselves. He remembers afternoons of cooking things he can only identify by smell, evenings of cuddling up with books and television - they both had a thing for Miss Marple and Murder She Wrote - though they both would rather die than admit it to people other than themselves.

The book had destroyed so much.

Feeling different - noticing that he was different - the other kids nots changing, everything just not changing apart from him and any time he tried to broach the subject with a friend or his mom... There was a definite glassing over of eyes and glossing over of answers...

The book had been the nail in the coffin transforming the feeling of unease into fully blown awareness. And his mom... She just clung on tighter and tighter, and he was suffocating.

But to be honest... It was in the past and his mom was fighting to be better. He has faith in her. And she's lost her own mom. He's not sure on the full details but he has his suspicions. And his moms came back together from whatever ordeal they had experienced, helping each other which is a thing of wonder.

And now Emma is at home with Regina. There's a feeling of hope that is sparking the back of his mind involving things that include both of them. At the same time! Dinners and maybe a movie marathon and the thoughts of these things makes Henrys heart hurt a little with how much he wants it. He’s never wanted for a second parent, his Mom being all he ever needed – but now that he has the taste of both of them… he can’t help but want them both… and it’s only now he’s starting to get a feeling of guilt slinking in, the full consequences of his actions becoming clear to him. He's getting an overwhelming urge just to clap eyes on his moms just to make sure they are real and safe.

He gets up and goes to find his shoes.

“David, I want to check on my moms…”


	7. Chapter 7

_It’s the darkest dark she’s ever experienced and she’s shivering – her teeth are actually chattering. Which seems ridiculous but it just is._

_Her side is on fire. She can’t sleep even though tiredness is blurring her thoughts and her eyes are so so dry. Her mouth tastes like pestilence and famine have taken up residence in there, definitely the tang of iron as well – god know what kind of sight she must have looked when she was brought back. Thankfully she’d been unconscious for the impromptu surgery their captors had performed on her. Stitches and consciousness? Not a good combination. Especially when she suspects that any kind of anaesthetic would have been withheld from her._

_God what she would give for a drink of water._

_For a beer._

_Emma folds her arms tighter around herself, mindful of her side. It wasn’t just the wound that hurt to be honest, she’s aching and stiff and cold and utterly miserable. Her ribs hurt. Cold unforgiving stone isn’t comfortable to lie on for extended periods of time – who knew?_

_“Are you just going to suffer in silence or are you going to come here and try to keep warm?”_

_Emma takes comfort in Regina’s gruff tone, a taste of normalcy in this shitstorm, and starts wriggling backwards to where she thinks Regina is._

_She can’t help the muted sigh of pleasure as she feels the slight warmth of the other woman and she settles, not quite able to cross that line into actual spooning since it’s Regina and Emma can’t really imagine –_

_An arm snakes around her and suddenly, oh, suddenly she feels so much warmer – the heat this woman produces! Regina presses up against her from behind, chest to back, thigh to thigh – she pushes her elbow under Emma’s head to give it some support and pulls the blonde closer._

_Emma is lost for a reaction other than to groan and instinctively tighten her arms around herself further so she’s not stealing quite so much heat from the other woman._

_Her stomach rumbles pityfully. The noise almost comically loud in the night. When was the last time they ate? She’s been so hyped up on adrenaline and terror that it’s only now in the quiet and the dark – the only sound is their breathing and the rustling of material if they move – it’s only now that she realises just how strung out and empty she’s feeling. Although the heat of Regina is making it more tolerable._

_“You should let me go next time,” The brunette whispers, tension rippling through her frame._

_“Regina… just stop,” she fumbles for Regina’s hand and squeezes it tightly. “You wouldn’t last ten seconds.”_

_Regina draws breath harshly, but Emma continues “Regina, you are one tough woman, and you do pack a mean punch,” her lips quirk as she hears the other woman’s snort of amusement. “But really, against any kind of meaningful attack like they put me through? Without your magic you are not even remotely a challenge to them.”_

_“You are a fool” The brunette mumbles._

_“At least Henry is ok, we only have to worry about ourselves.”_

_“And your stupid predilection for getting yourself hurt.”_

_“Hey,” Emma huffs out a slight laugh before she wheezes, her ribs aching violently, “gotta protect her majesty, I am the savior and all.”_

_“I can look after myself,” Regina snarls sharply loosening her arm and starting to roll away._

_Emma grabs onto the limb around her and pulls the brunette solidly around her once more. She needs this._

_Apparently the dark makes them honest and lowers and personal space issues which to be honest, never was high on their list of appropriate social behaviour - but this quiet intimacy is strange and new but it feels honest and right. Emma reflects that they have fought and fought with each other on so many levels since the first day they had been brought into each other’s lives by Henry… but things have been changing between the two of them for a while… Had been until Regina’s mother had arrived._

_Regina snarked and raised her eyebrows but was still frank and practical and Emma recognised that as Regina considering her an equal. She could see right through the act. She had been able to for a long time. The events in the mines with the trigger, Regina showing an acceptance, confiding in Emma. The grudging “welcome back…” They had always had moments of vulnerability even when fraught with emotion Emma acknowledges, so maybe this isn’t as strange as she thinks._

_“I told you, you wouldn’t last one minute – You’ve not let any kind of physical lifestyle in… god, I don’t know, Regina, and I have… So please don’t fight me on this and let me do this for us until I can’t anymore.” She releases her tight grip on Regina’s hand slightly embarrassed at her little quiet speech._

_She’s made a promise, albeit a while ago, and it has kind of become central to her now, somehow. Regina’s not dying. The other woman has been through a lot as well. Cora’s mindfuckery. Greg had tortured her. Henry. Regina is the root of a lot of the bad stuff. But Emma can see she is damaged and she doesn’t know the full history but she knows there is a tragic backstory – more than just Snow telling on her. She’d been right, Regina telling Henry before going to the mine that she loved him and that she’d failed him had been her saying goodbye. Regina was willing to die for their son. She was willing to die for the town._

_Emma is determined to push Henry and Regina together if and when they get out of this situation. They deserve it, they deserve to get to know each other once again in the careless ease of lazy breakfasts and Emma has a pang of want at the scenes she imagines in her head._

_She thinks of Henry trying to slyly bargain with Regina over what to have for breakfast as she’s absolutely certain the other woman would have a fit if she knew what Emma would let Henry have for breakfast. Bickering over breakfast foods…_

_The words are out before she even thinks about what she’s saying “I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt when I could have done something about it to protect you.” Emma freezes, breath suddenly caught in her throat._

_Regina is silent. The moment stretching onwards and for a moment Emma thinks the older woman has fallen asleep but she catches the sigh and can visualise the lines crinkling around Regina’s eyes as she half smiles._

_She’s not sure if she imagines it as she succumbs to exhausted slumber, the whispered words so faint and soft._

_“Thank you.”_

 

* * *

David heads up the stairs to look for Henry. He’s checked downstairs for Regina and Emma and there’s no sign of them and no sign of the young boy who had sat quietly on the journey over.

He finds him standing silently in the open doorway of what must be Regina’s bedroom, looking in.

The room was quiet, serene, punctuated only by the gentle breathing of the observed and the observers. David lets his eyes rest on the strange but peaceful sight and he really doesn’t know what to make of it. Regina is lying on her back with Emma tucked into her side. Her arm was curled around Emma’s waist and Emma’s arm was slung carelessly across Regina. She was pressed so tightly into Regina she was almost on top of the brunette. Her head was tucked into Regina’s neck. They were so quiet, so still. There was a strange kind of poetic symmetry in the two women lying there, something he’d never thought he would ever think. Light and dark complimenting each other.

So this was not as disconcerting as David imagined he might have reacted. He feels like she should be storming around in a righteous rage. But he isn’t. He is a little surprised, but the picture of contentedness that Emma was painting right now stilled any form of negative reaction he might have had. Whatever his feelings towards Regina were, Emma drew some kind of strength from the other woman and David just… well Emma is his daughter and he will follow his daughters compass.

Emma is guarded, it pains David to acknowledge because it always dredges up everything else but here she is clearly comfortable enough to just be.

He’s perversely glad Snow is not here right now… he imagines she would flip with indignant rage impulsively before getting her act together but for now, he doesn’t want to disturb the two slumbering figures. He feels like he is intruding on something immensely private in fact as both these women are notoriously closed off from the outside world.

David settles his hand on Henry’s narrow shoulder and squeezes gentle before looking down at him. Henry’s eyebrows are hovering near his hairline and his mouth is hanging open - the look of wonder on his face almost making David laugh before he catches himself.

Henry is whispering urgently to him as they back away, “I’m not seeing things right?”

David smiles indulgently, guiding Henry downstairs away from his mothers, leaving them to their rest.

God knows they probably needed a lot of it.

He was torn between trying to talk to Emma about what was going on with Regina but he imagined it was all wrapped up in whatever had happened over on the island and he knew, he just _felt,_ that it was going to be a drawn out process to get to the bottom of it all. If Emma even wanted to share that was…

He knew his daughter was a private person, and truthfully he was envious of the friendship Snow had developed with her as Mary Margaret. He hoped that maybe with some effort she would open back up to them. Open up to him. He was greedy for her. He’d missed so much and wanted so badly to make up for time lost but somehow knew that smothering her just wouldn’t work.

And it was infuriating. David had grown to be brash and impulsive alongside Snow, further from his more contemplative farming roots but he was trying so hard to _think_ his actions through because Snow was likely not to. Emma didn’t owe them anything and although his inner voice and Snow’s voice was in his ear telling him that she would love them without reserve he just knew that things were not that simple.

Maybe he should seek advice.

But from whom?

Blue?

Archie?

Perhaps he should talk it through with Snow?

Henry breaks his rambling train of thought, “David?” he asks, looking up, brows furrowed. “Are my moms… are my mom’s together? Like you and Snow together?”

David opens his mouth to deny instinctively because come on – Emma and Regina are like fire and gasoline and please, the saviour and the evil queen.

But something stops him.

“I don’t know Henry.” He sits on the bottom step of the staircase and pats the varnished wood beside him.

Henry sits, knees gathered up to his chest and small hands clutching them. He looks so young.

“Like, It’s not an issue…” He begins, eyes narrowed in concentration, “it’s just… It’s them. And I’ve never really thought about _them_.” Henry starts to smile a small smile, and it grows, “It _would_ be pretty cool though.”

“Henry,” David interrupts hastily, “I think you need to let your moms come to you with whatever is going on with them. Sometimes people who have been through something scary just need to spend time together. And your moms do get on better than they used to…”

“Yeah but not like… _cuddling_ better. I’ve never seen mom hug anyone other than me. Even Emma doesn’t really hug you guys.”

David spreads his palms before him. “Well we just need to see, Henry.”

“Would it be a problem for you and Snow? If they were a thing?”

David is surprised at the question, he’s reminded again how grown up Henry can be.

“No Henry, it wouldn’t be for me, but it would take some getting used to… And I can’t answer for Snow, she has a… complicated history with Regina as you know.”

He nods to himself before pushing to his feet.

“I do think we should just let them both come to us in their own time though. Come on, let’s leave them to their rest.”

Henry nods thoughtfully as he springs to his feet and follows David out of the house.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up going in a darker, different direction than i intended, and it was quite difficult to write. I'm quite proud of this chapter actually.  
> Please let me know what you think?

Emma stirs, slowly rising to consciousness. She could feel the comfort of a duvet beneath her, the dry warmth of the air, the heat emanating off of Regina.

She recalls arriving at the door last night in a haze, it’s a big vague but she feels the ache in her knees from falling to the ground. She remembers the stillness, the peace that resting her head against Regina’s belly had given her, the gentle tethering of fingers winding through her hair.

Remembers wordlessly getting up and following the other woman to her bedroom and standing in the doorway, suddenly uncertain and feeling the tug in her belly to flee. But to where?

Regina had walked over to the bed and smoothed the sheets back into place.

“You are only staying for a little while OK? You can’t stay here.”

Emma didn’t question it, she just flew over to the bed as the brunette lay down and got on top of the bed, shoes still on. She didn’t care, all she could think of was the comfort, the normality she would find in Regina’s arms.

“Have you slept enough yet?” The brunette brings Emma back to the present and she has her eyebrow quirked but a hint of a smile ghosting across her features. Emma is so glad there is humour in there because she’s been drowning in seriousness and hesitancy.

She stretches, luxuriating in the burn of her muscles and the popping of her spine and _god_ that felt good. She settles once more against Regina, wilfully ignoring the tension threading its way back into the brunette’s body as she starts to rise.

“Emma-“

“Please Regina,” Emma is not above begging, her hand resting hesitantly on the older woman’s sternum. “Please just let me stay here for a while…”

Regina lets out a loud obvious sigh. She relaxes back against the bed though and Emma wastes no time in gingerly tucking herself tightly back against the other woman. She rests her cheek gently on Regina’s shoulder, closing her eyes for a moment. Emma relishes the quiet of the room, the faint chirps of birds swooping about in the garden, the gentle rustling of leaves, the occasional _brum_ of a car going past. She concentrates on the sound of Regina breathing, deep and even. She tries to let the rise and fall of her chest block out everything else and lull her back to sleep. There is something that’s refusing to leave her alone right now that she is awake though.

“I attacked Hook,” She pierces the serenity of the bedroom sharply.

“Nothing he doesn't deserve,” Regina grunts.

“Like… I _really_ attacked hook.”

Regina hums, nodding, idly tracing her fingertips along Emma’s back where her hand rests. It’s like she’s not even aware she’s doing it.

“I lost control. I just freaked out.”

“Emma, the pirate is a pig, why are you so-“

“Don’t you hear me?” Emma leans up on her arm, looking down at the other woman, “I _lost_ control of myself. I broke his nose – I saw red. It was like…” She sucks in a deep breath, tears suddenly prickling at her eyes. She sits up properly, Regina now raising herself on her elbows. “It was like I was back _there_.”

Regina nods once, pursing her lips. Her brow furrows. “Has this happened any other time?”

She sits up further when Emma bites her lip, nodding her head slowly. “I’ve had sudden… flashes I suppose, when I’ve been around my parents or-“

“Henry.” Regina finishes firmly for her, tone sharp - “Have you reacted violently around my-“

Emma’s eyes flash and she practically snarls “Our! And no!” she’s shaking her head emphatically, “I’ve only had panic attacks. I would never- “Emma takes a deep breath, feeling sick now, her pulse racing and she feels like she’s burning up. “No,” she repeats, shuffling back, falling over her feet on the bed. “No, never-“

“Emma!” Regina moves forward swiftly, reaching out for her.

Emma falls off the bed, her backside and head impacting the floor forcing a loud _oof_ from her mouth. Her legs are hooked over the edge of the bed and Regina’s head pokes out above them.

“Are you quite finished?”

Emma feels her cheeks redden and she just wants the floor to swallow her up.

“So what happened with Hook?” Regina prompts, apparently content to continue the conversation as they are.

Emma forces herself to take a few deep, measured breathes before she starts, she’s not planning on acting like that again. Not that she can help it…

Regina lets out an impatient huff and steps off the bed, towering over Emma, her hands perching imperiously on her hips. She shakes her head before lowering herself. She sits, and shuffles towards the bed. Emma stares and stares as Regina hooks her legs over the edge of the bed, settling in beside her. Regina nudges her – _actually nudges her­_ – and prompts her once more.

“What happened with Hook?”

Emma can’t stop staring at Regina as she mirrors her position whilst she explained what had happened at the diner. Explained Hook grabbing her – her mind just going a million miles an hour – the flash of his hook. Emma shudders as she recalls it, she struggles to remember what was going through her mind at the time but she knows she just felt the need to _defend –_ to do damage. Hurt before being hurt herself.

Regina just nods along with Emma’s staccato explanation until her words peter out.

“Go see Archie.” The brunette nods sharply like that was the end of the matter before picking herself gracefully up from the position they’d been in. Emma peers up at her. Emma has always been leery of people helping her. She’d bristled when she’d first come to town – wary of those who were so eager to help in anything. And although she’s been in Storybrooke for a while now, has friends and people she trusts here… that willingness to accept help is still stunted. And the thought of talking to a shrink just makes her shut down – it’s like admitting failure, admitting there’s a problem. It’s not Emma’s thing.

Regina’s eyebrow is raised and Emma realises she’s been silent for longer than she meant to be. “I just want to see how things go, I don’t think I need-“

“Get out my house,” Regina snaps and she points at the door.

Emma scrambles hastily to her feet,  confusion and hurt vibrating in her chest. “Regina come on! It’s only been a few days, I don’t think this one incident warrants seeking professional help!”

“Go!” The brunette stands resolutely, finger extended to the hallway.

Emma stands, struck dumb. She almost has whiplash from the sudden change of tone of this whole situation. Indignation sneaks up on her - She’s the one who has really been through hell here – _She’s_ the one who put her life on the line time and time again who does Regina think she –

“If you won’t get professional help Emma, I don’t want you around Henry – think of our _son,_ Emma – think of what could happen if you have one of your ‘episodes’ when he is around. Think of what could happen if he sees you acting out, or what if he touches you at the wrong moment? Have you thought of these things Emma? Have you thought of how selfish your fear of admitting there is something wrong is? What if you attack Snow or David? And don’t you dare shrug this off because you know I am talking sense.”

Again, Emma is struck dumb, the words tumbling furiously from Regina’s mouth striking home, again and again. And she is filled with shame. Filled with anger, at herself and at Regina for seeing right through her.

Filled with fury. She shoves Regina. Hard.

“This is your fault!”

Regina lets out a bark of disbelieving laughter, her arms coming up to grab at Emma’s wrists.

“How have you reached that conclusion, Emma?”

Emma dodges her hands and shoves Regina again, her teeth gritting with anger as she shouts, “This is your fault, if only you hadn't been so stupid to have fallen, we wouldn't have been caught!”

“I told you to leave. I told you to keep going – it’s not my fault you have a white knight complex!”

Emma pushes Regina once more and the brunette lets out a yelp as she falls backwards onto the bed. The blonde is on her in seconds, straddling her hips and pinning her wrists. “Don’t you _dare,”_ she slams Regina’s wrists into the bed forcefully, “Don’t you dare make this my fault. Don’t you dare twist this! I made a promise!” Regina’s struggles to get out from under her cease. She goes limp and Emma is left hanging over her, panting. Her head hurts.

“Is that what it boils down to? Henry’s promise?”

Emma nods, mutely. Her hair is tumbling down over her head, framing the two of them.

“And what next, Emma? Are you going to blame him for making you promise to save me?” Emma rears back at the hissed question. Regina’s eyes are blazing and her teeth are bared as she pushes herself upright. Emma sits back, straddling Regina’s thighs as the brunette thrusts her face inches from her own.

“Are you going to blame him for making you come back to rescue me? Are you going to blame him for making you fight those bastards? Are you going to let resentment curdle inside you until one day he grabs your hand to show you something and you break his arm by accident?”

Emma’s shaking her head at Regina’s words, struck dumb once again at the vehement tone. It’s preposterous, the thought of it but somewhere in the back of her mind she acknowledges _anything_ was possible. Getting angry with Regina had taken her by surprise. She didn’t blame the brunette for anything. She hung her head, chin resting on her sternum.

“I’m maybe being overdramatic here Emma,” Regina says quietly, leaning forward to rest her forehead against Emma’s, “but I am trying to make a very _real_ point, ok?”

They sat as they were for a while, Emma listening to Regina’s breathing. The other woman’s steady breaths just calm Emma and she doesn’t really understand why. She just remembers numerous nights, waking in the relative warmth of Regina being pressed up against her. Curled around her from behind or Emma being pressed into her side like they'd slept last night - Emma remembers listening to Regina breathing steadily in the dark. It was like a symbol of _why_ she must go on. Why she must fight. Her sign that she was succeeding so far and that everything was ok.

“Do you understand me, Emma?”

Emma worries at her lip, and she knows, she really does that Regina is talking sense but there’s something constricting her throat as she considers talking to Archie about things. She’s a private person, and aside from Regina who had _been_ there, she’s not talked to anyone about what had happened. She doesn't really intend to either, hoping to sweep it under the carpet and stop feeling so strung out all the time.

“Emma?” Regina prompts again, pulling back and hooking a finger under her chin.

She can’t. She want's to please this woman, she wants to do right by Henry, her family - she want's everything to be ok, but she can't lay it out in words yet. She can't. She's not ready to rip back the scab and examine the festering wound she knows is there. She want's to do good but she can't. Emma is quailing inside. She can feel tears burning her eyes again and the black feeling of shame filling her belly. Her throat feels like acid is bubbling its way up and she lets out a tearful gasp before stepping back off Regina’s lap. She claps her hand to her mouth to stifle another broken sob and she stumbles back towards the door.

“I,” her voice cracks and she rests her head on the doorframe, “I don’t think I can do that yet…” Her voice is quiet but she knows Regina has heard her the moment the other woman sighs.

“I will send Henry over.” Emma promises this to Regina, and to herself she promises to not hurt anyone. She’s not going to lose control again. Emma can do this she thinks to herself. She’s not broken, just bent.

Regina watches the damaged woman stumble from her bedroom and waits for the front door to slam before she allows her own tears to fall.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've just had a big planning sesh so i have more direction now yay!  
> Be warned, there will be ANGST on the horizon so brace yourselves ^^  
> Thank you for all the kind comments, i really appreciate them all. Bear in mind i don't have a beta so there will be the odd spelling mistake though i do cast a critical eye over everything when i post but i am only human.

Emma is all at sixes and sevens as she stomps home. She’s wilfully ignoring her childish gait, relishing the hard impact of her booted feet on the side-walk. She’s ignoring the guilt snaking up her spine. She’s ignoring the knowing steady brown eyes looking at her not with judgement, but with absolute understanding but the barest hint of underlying disappointment.

She storms up the stairs into the apartment and enters with a slam of the door, the various glass panels rattling. It would almost be comical if she didn't actually want to break things. Shame and anger are warring inside her and it’s an ugly miasma of discontent brewing in her belly.

“Henry, pack your things,” she barks, not in the mood for discussion, “You are going home to your mother.”

Henry is sitting at the breakfast bar, spoon halfway to his mouth. His eyes are wide, not unlike a deer in headlights the back of her mind tells her and she forces herself to close her eyes and to breathe. The harsh words that got her in this state came back to galvanise her into action.

She moves, coming to sit across from her son. He puts his spoon back in the bowl. David’s not here she realises, not noting him appearing from anywhere, and Henry’s been helping himself to the fruit loops. Her son.

“So, you know stuff has gone down in Neverland…” She starts, suddenly sheepish and the anger that fuelled her black cloud march swiftly dissipating in the face of her son. She reaches up and scratches her neck.

“Yeah,” he leans back and crosses his arms. He might be hers biologically, but he was all Regina too. And the thunderous mood erupted once more.

“So I think you should go home to your other mother,” She spits the final word at her son, ignoring the eyebrow raising, “I think you should spend some time with _her_.”

Henry nods slowly, as though this was a _particularly_ hard point to process Emma notes irritably. What was so hard to understand? Didn’t he want to see his mom?

“Ma, will you be alright?”

Emma’s heart breaks at his unsure tone. She continually doesn’t give him credit. She can’t meet his eyes for a moment, her own finding a hairline crack in the brickwork particularly interesting.

“Henry…” She plays with an ever present doily sat on the surface. “You know that stuff has happened, and I don’t want to go into it, _yet.”_ She holds her hand up, placating, as he opens his mouth to argue. “But, I’m finding it hard to just…” Emma pauses, unsure how to continue, and she changes the subject because damn, she just _can’t_. “You mom has also been through a lot, and there’s no one there with her – I’ve got Mary Margaret and David… but she’s got no one there right now…” She trails off, willing him to just _get_ it.

“It’s ok Emma,” She blinks back tears as Henry's small hand reaches across and covers her own, “I get it.”

“You still owe me an explanation of what happened though,” he chirps as he gets off the chair and bounds upstairs.

Emma sits whilst Henry rattles around upstairs, counting her blessings that her son is not in one of his obstinate _‘I demand an explanation for everything’_ moods. This is exactly the right thing to do she thinks. Regina _is_ alone over there, and whilst Emma had been the one taking on the more obvious horrors of their time over on the island… she braces for the ripple of tension that flits through her… Regina will probably have her own shit to deal with too. Emma should probably check in with her about that she realises, her selfishness slapping her in the face. Maybe it’s not such a good idea to send Henry over, Emma screws up her face in consternation.

But then, Regina has always been more prepared for pretty much everything. She’s so much stronger than Emma has ever been. More in control. And Henry would call her at the first sign of trouble.

“What are you smiling at, Ma?” Henry breaks Emma out of her appreciative thoughts and brings her back to the matter at hand as he appears on the stairs, bag slung on his back.

Emma looks at her son, reaffirming that this is the right course of action. It will give Regina and Henry some time together with no outside influences and it will give her some time to fix her shit.

She dismisses Henry's question with a shrug and a smile and they head out.

They cross the town in a comfortable silence, taking the bug. Emma lost in her thoughts, Henry in his. She looks down and sees his hand resting on top of hers where it cups the shift stick, she hadn’t even noticed.

“Let me know if you are worried about your mom ok?” she ventures and he smiles at her understandingly.

“Course ma, she needs people to look after her too” He trails off meaningfully but Emma isn’t biting.

She’s a bit discombobulated by the intense change in her relationship with Regina, and the equally intense reversal that is almost… expected back here. She supposes, it will take time to figure out where everything falls. And yes, she had fled to the brunette when she was in need the night before, but she could do this without her. Could do it without the smart ass looks telling her what to do.

Could do without the intensely grounding experience she’d had at her side for the past few weeks a traitorous voice whispered. Emma frowns as she pulled up outside 108 Mifflin, boosting herself out the seat. She leans on the side of the bug as Henry waves goodbye and runs up the path to the door, already opening. Emma rests her eyes coolly on the woman who clings onto her son tightly, eyes and hands doing the automatic check of limbs intact, face not upset before burying her face in his hair.

Emma can’t breathe for a moment as fierce brown eyes meet hers, a million emotions running through them - gratitude,  relief, concern – before Regina blinks and ushers her son indoors with smiles and a light shower of laughter, no further ceremony.

She breathes a sigh of relief as both figures disappear through the wide door and she is left on her own. It’s for the best. She will be _fine._ She’s done the right thing for the time being. No one can criticise her. She’s done something about what Regina had said.

It’s fine.

She will be _fine._

* * *

 

David looks up as his daughter comes wandering into the bullpen with purpose. She hangs her jacket up, his eyes narrow – Emma almost never takes her leather jacket off. Emma sighs loudly before stalking into her office and dropping into the chair with some force.

“Hey,” she grunts, putting her feet up on the desk.

David gets up from his desk, and his pile of paperwork and moves over to lean comfortably on the doorframe of the office.

“Hey,” he offers. He doesn’t miss the tension that settles in her frame as he comes to stand between her and freedom, and files it away with some sadness. “Back to work already?” He offers.

Emma just nods slowly as she casts her head around, taking in the office. It’s been a while he supposes. “Henry said you were just popping in to do some paperwork before heading back to the apartment – I’ve taken him to Regina’s just to let you know,” she states dispassionately as she taps her fingers on her thigh.

She starts opening drawers, as though reacquainting herself with their contents.

David is surprised she’s here. Surprised she’s taken Henry to Regina’s

“Are you sure that is wise?”

His eyebrows climb at the loud sigh his daughter lets out as she shuts the drawer with some force.

“She’s his mother.” He can see Emma is resolute on this as she offers nothing more than this statement, and her hard stare stops him from questioning her further. He supposes, as painful as it is to admit, that she has had more parenting experience than he has…

He forcibly swallows against the tightening in his throat, “Coffee?” he offers before moving over to the machine, picking up on the hum of agreement.

“Do you feel ready to be back at work, Emma?”

Another sigh and he almost smirks at the thought of his daughter throwing up her arms in exasperation.

“I want to be kept busy. I’m not helping anyone sitting around,” comes the short, brittle answer, and David can hear more things being fiddled with in the office.

He wants to push her on this, but he also wants to give into anything Emma ever wants to do and he is so _weak_ when it comes to her that he caves.

“Ok,” he loads the mug with creamer and sugar. “Promise me though,” he asks, setting the mug down and looking Emma in the eye, “Promise me if you need some time or anything _at all_ -“

Emma grabs the mug and looks away, “Yeah I know.” She cradles the cup of coffee like it’s precious gold and she leans back, not meeting David’s eyes again as he stands in front of her desk.

He wants to shake her.

He wants to wrap her up and put her somewhere safe.

He knows he will never be able to do either.

David leaves her with her coffee and goes back to his reports, frowning. He keeps an ear cocked as Emma rattles around the small office, pacing, not seeming to do anything of consequence. He wonders what happened at Regina’s – they had been sleeping so peacefully – to make her so rattled.

He starts as she suddenly announces she’s going out on patrol and she’s off out the door, keys and jacket in hand. David turns to watch her go, helplessly. Something doesn’t feel right. And he’s deeply surprised Emma has unloaded Henry back onto Regina so soon – he’d have thought having her son around would be something Emma wanted. But then… she had attacked Hook and he never had anticipated that aggression from her. He shudders as the memory flashes up again. He doesn’t know if the sudden horror will ever really dissipate.

He’ll keep an eye on her, make sure he can act at the first sign of anything. Try talking to her about her experiences and he hopes that she will relax soon to talk to him or Snow. He hopes she will get through this.

He believes she can.

David has faith in the good of this world winning out.


	10. Chapter 10

_Regina thinks they have been here about ten days now. She’s not sure, but she’s counting the amount of times Emma has been dragged back in and dumped unceremoniously. The blonde is usually unconscious but sometimes there’s a grunt of pain as she hits the ground and Regina always waits until their captors have left them alone, their boots echoing down the tunnel. They’ve left a torch this time, burning in a primitive sconce across from the bars. It’s casting a treacherously warm glow across their prison._

_Today (tonight?) is no different. She can’t tell the passage of time from any form of light and she imagines her skin to be sallow and pasty. Not that she’s that concerned about what she looks like. Or smells like. Emma has been thrown in, landing face down. A quiet groan of pain comes from the blonde before she rolls onto her side to contemplate Regina. Her face is bloody, teeth stained menacingly with red as she licks her lips._

_“Water?” she croaks, the energy seeping visibly from her and Regina fetches her some from the bucket of water left just outside the bars. She has to cup her hands together tightly to transport some back, cursing as droplets inevitably escape as she rushes back. Emma is working her jaw with one hand and trying to hold herself up with the other as Regina lowers herself and brings her hands to Emma’s mouth. They are quiet as Emma cradles her hands to try and drink but a lot of the water escapes, dripping down her arms and Regina is frustrated. If only they had a damn cup because this happened every time either one of them wanted a drink. She hates inefficiency._

_She stares at the blonde when she quips that Regina should just drink some water and pass it to her by mouth, she’s laughing about an episode of Xena._

_Regina can’t believe the tenacity of the blonde joking at a time like this. But it brings a smile to her face anyway and they sit together, Emma gingerly cataloguing her aches and pains and Regina watching like a hawk. The guilt she is steeping in is strong, but any attempt to change Emma’s mind has been met with the same steely determination she has displayed all along._

_“I had to fight three of them today. It’s like they are getting bored,” she notes as though they are discussing the weather._

_Regina frowns. Both at the possibility of their captors actually getting bored, and at the resigned familiarity with which Emma speaks. Regina frets._

_She has no idea how they are going to get out of this mess. No clue._

_They don’t talk, they don’t always have light and it amuses Regina in the back of her mind that they need the anonymity of the dark to be comfortable. She takes a punt anyway._

_“Anything broken?” She ventures, eyes flitting from legs to arms to face and she finds green pained eyes as Emma shakes her head slowly._

_“I’m just damn sore.” Emma clenches her jaw, reinforcing this._

_“Come here,” Regina pats the ground as she lies down and Emma regards her a moment before shuffling over, her face going white with the effort and she hesitates before Regina reaches up and guides her down anyway. Emma is normally unconscious when Regina gets them into this position but it is cold right now and Regina just can’t be bothered with pretences. She wants to be warm and she wants to make sure Emma is benefitting from that. Regina tucks her elbow under Emma’s head and sweeps her dirty curls up and away from between them, resting her own head on her wrist._

_She pulled Emma tight against her, approving when the blonde adjusted her legs to let Regina tuck hers into the crook of her knee._

_It was slightly alarming how well they fit together._

_“Sleep,” she shushes Emma, her breathing slowing already and she can’t help herself as she leans forward a little to press a gentle kiss behind the other woman’s ear._

_What was that?_

_Regina is unsure of her feelings here. She’s never had someone do something like this before and she won’t put this down to pure and simple hero worship because that is ridiculous. She’s just grateful she argues with herself._

_“I felt that,” the blonde mumbles sleepily, “don’t be getting all sentimental on me now.”_

_She’s blushing, she knows she is. But then Regina supposes it doesn’t matter. This situation has forcibly removed their usual boundaries and roles._

_“Tell me a story, Regina,” is whispered into the dark and the brunette’s heart cries for the child in Emma, seeking comfort. They haven’t talked much so far, their time being spent with Emma elsewhere, Regina having too much time to think – short interludes where they have been awake, patching up the bruised and battered blonde – and sleeping. Regina isn’t really used to talking to the blonde, not in conversation anyway – they have proven to be an effective team, talking straight strategy, planning, always regarding Henry – Always._

_This isn’t a Henry situation, not anymore, and Regina is a little lost. This is the lost child she condemned to an upbringing harsher than her own seeking comfort in a land of thorns. Regina can’t help but admire Emma, she’s dragged herself through an unforgiving life, dealt with the horror and the turmoil of hard decisions and villains – and she’s not faltered. It’s not like they have actually had this conversation, but Regina read her files, read the reports, and read through the lines of “troubled child.”_

_Emma has fought every step of the way, and she’s still fighting – For the sake of one of the reasons of her start at life. Regina doesn’t feel guilty. Everything that has occurred has brought her Henry, and he is everything… she imagines on some level, Emma feels the same. Rumpelstiltskin’s scheming created his monster, and she had a hand in creating this tenacious fighter lying against her, and in turn - Emma created the light of Regina’s life. There’s no two ways about it, she cares for Emma. She has since she turned up on her doorstep, and angry hurting Henry hurling accusatory words. She has since Emma first sheepishly looked her in the eye with a “hi,” and that garish red armour._

_Regina feels a ridiculous pang of craving for the pleather monstrosity._

_It’s been the forced introspection, the large quantities of time that Regina has been spending just waiting that’s made her come to some realisations about her relationship with the blonde._

_She cares about her._

_And she’s not sure what to do about it. She’s not sure what extent this affection runs to…_

_The pig headed willingness of the blonde to take the force of the blow for Regina is confusing her and she thinks it’s messing with whatever feelings exist for Emma._

_The blonde came swinging into her life with defensive then threatening words and they’ve fought. Oh god did they fight. The level of tension and sass making Regina almost giddy to do verbal battle with the other woman. Regina smiles at the memory of sparring with Emma, the sheriff. Remembers her days feeling a bit brighter, a bit sharper in focus because of their mutual antagonism._

_“Regina?” Her name being mumbled jars Regina out of her sudden reverie about her relationship with this idiot. She’s glad, god, she’s so glad it’s Emma who is here with her. She’s glad it’s Emma who’s promising her she’ll see Henry again._

_She can’t help but believe her._

_“I was once out in the fields with my daddy and my horse, Rocinante, and we heard a young girl screaming for help…”_

_Regina doesn’t know what possesses her to start telling this particular story, but maybe it’s time Emma learns something about the woman she’s enduring pain and punishment for._

_“What kind of name is Rocinante?” snorts the woman in her arms, before Regina lightly slaps Emma’s waist where her own hand hangs._

_The light from the torch starts to sputter as it begins to burn out, they will be plunged back into darkness soon. Regina suppresses a shiver, instead tightening her arm around Emma, seeking that little bit more warmth._

_“Do you want a story or not?”_

_Emma responds by nodding and pressing back against Regina that little bit more, whispering a small “please,” that makes Regina’s momentary irritation disappear. She knows that please._

_“Your idiot mother had lost control of her horse…”_

_“Are you going to find a way to call her an idiot every time you mention her in this story?”_

_“Watch me.”_

_The torch dies out and they are back in the dark again. Emma sighs loud and long and Regina instantly misses the sight of the blonde mess in her face, as tangled and dirty as it is._

_Regina continues the story, throat burning through the part that makes her want to scream and cry and rip Snow White limb from limb and Emma has her hand on Regina’s arm. Five points of pressure pressing in firmly as her voice wavers but Emma doesn’t say anything, simply touches and lets Regina talk. She doesn’t comment on Snow White telling that truth to the worst possible person. Doesn’t defend her mother to the woman whose life she unwittingly destroyed. Emma squeezes Regina’s forearm when she talks about The King and she can’t help but keep the utter loathing out of her voice. Of course not. She stops after his proposal and her mother’s acceptance, too much of her painful history making her feel raw and exposed and she switches onto stories about her father, seeking comfort in her memories about him and isn’t sure when Emma’s breathing changed to even and deep but she’s now snoring gently, unhurried and for a second Regina imagines what it would be like to wake up to that in her own bed. To wake up to someone sharing her space every morning._

_She’s so tired from her story and the constant vigil of fear that it doesn’t even occur to her to question that last thought, she just lets herself slip off into blissful unconsciousness, protecting Emma the only way she can right now, keeping her warm, and giving her some degree of comfort._

 

* * *

 

David watches his daughter pick at her food for the umpteenth time before he clears his throat meaningfully and looks at her place.

“Not hungry,” she mutters before pushing it away, pretences over.

David sighs and looks out the window. It’s been a slow day. It’s raining and the sky is as grey as everyone’s mood seems to be.

It’s been a couple of weeks and Emma’s not eating as far as he can see. He can hear her shouting out at night and he’s had heated debates about waking her with Snow, his wife stressed and confused.

Emma has been crying out every night before becoming silent and he just _knows_ she’s awake, but every time they’ve approached her room, she’s not responded to their quiet calls. David had poked his head in through the door once, and Emma had been curled up under the window, her arms tight around herself. Or she’s just not come home at all.

He doesn’t understand it. Neither of them do.

He’s watched her grow shorter and sharper with everyone. She’d almost lost her temper with Grumpy on one of his usual sarcastic missions the day before, her jaw and fists clenching and that just was not Emma.

It’s concerning because David just doesn’t know what to do. Any question of “are you alright,” is met with an exhausted smile and a shrug. Emma can’t even be bothered keeping up a façade she’s so on edge and tired.

Snow is getting a little more frantic every day, but only to David. To Emma she is warm and offering comfort at every turn, and only David can read the slight tightening of her eyes, the small hurts as Emma dismisses every offer claiming she’s alright.

Which isn’t true.

Emma appears every morning, inhales some coffee before flying out the door before David or Snow can really take stock. He sees her at the station, and sometimes they spend a bit of time together, her shoulders tense and his eyes trying not to settle permanently on her. It’s a massive strain on David, he wants to shake her, wants to force out a conversation and a solution but he won’t.

He’s got no idea how to help someone who doesn’t need a beast slaying or a comforting hand. There’s nothing physical he can do here, not that he can think of anyway.

“It’s the miners fair soon,” he comments, trying to tempt Emma into meaningful conversation.

She grunts, looking at something out the window.

“Should be good fun,” he ventures, trailing off into a flat quiet.

Emma looks back at him and blinks as though seeing where she is for the first time and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m a million miles away.”

David smiles warmly, “I can see that.”

“I’m… I _am_ sorry. I’m not very good company right now. I just…” Emma trails off into that hesitant quiet she often goes into where she breaks eye contact and wrings her hands together. David sits forward and reaches across to her.

“It’s ok, Emma, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” She smiles with relief, shooting him a grateful look.

He’s glad she’s smiling and actually engaging with him, but he also wonders if he’s coddling her. But then the fear of whether pushing her in this will push her away rises like the tide and David sits back, arm along the back of the booth, and smiles at his precious daughter.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the absolutely delightful unrequitedkegs for beta-ing for me <3

It’s been a few weeks, and Emma is having… issues.

Emma isn’t really wanting to deal with Regina in the light of day. Her intense, knowing gaze is making Emma quail and itchy and a million other things, so she does what Emma Swan does best.

She avoids her. She runs, without the actual running though, she hastily amends. Sees the tailored jacked and perfect hair and turns the corner or doesn’t stop to say more than hi when they inevitably run into each other at the grocery store or Granny’s.

Henry notices, of course he does, but any questions she halts with a querulous “please, not yet Henry,” and he stops, because what else can he do? She’s maybe capitalising on him not wanting to hurt her or however he envisions this situation but Emma is just interested in stopping the questions, and not having to think about ‘it’.

She doesn’t fail to notice his increasingly frustrated sighs every time this happens though. Doesn’t fail to notice the hurt marring his features before his mask goes up every time she declines an offer of hanging out. Every time she makes an excuse. Guilt claws up her throat. But she will get there and she will make it up to him. He’ll understand, one day.

Emma replies to texts from Regina with monosyllabic answers and she can feel the disapproval and concern emanating from the phone.

Still… she finds herself wordlessly turning up at the door some nights, boots scuffing the porch and is studied by dark eyes for a moment before being equally silently let into the house and into a warm bed with a warm, familiar, body. Aside from this weakness… she avoids Regina like the plague. Because Regina is too big, too much. Regina in daylight, in the warm bright glow of sunshine, is kind of terrifying.

And Emma craves the closeness with Regina. She craves being near her, craves her smell, the sound of her heart beating, the motion of her chest as she breathes. She’s had so much of all these things in the dark and in the quiet but a challenging, loud, _bright_ Regina is like an overwhelming jolt to the system. It’s addictive though, and she _likes_ Regina, and she really doesn’t know what to do with that information.

Regina also just _know_ s what’s going on, and the look of concern painted on the brunette’s face whenever their eyes meet makes Emma’s head spin. Makes her feel guilty. Makes her feel giddy. She knows she’d being a coward.

She forces herself to experience small doses of this on the nights she ends up knocking on the door quietly, in the space between Regina meeting her eyes and crawling into bed with Regina, pressed up against one another. Their breathing synchronised and their eyes examining the wall, the ceiling, the back of each other’s heads, before sleep. She forces herself to submit to the confusion and fear of being around this slightly overwhelming creature for a while before bed because otherwise it’s a night of broken sleep and horrific nightmares.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” Regina mutters, frustrated, one night. Emma can only pull Regina’s arm tighter around her and whisper “please” because she can’t cope without sleeping here regularly, she’d snapped at Belle during the day as it was. And you _never_ snap at Belle. She’s a cupcake.

The whole situation is supremely frustrating, Emma huffs. The town’s people look at Emma and Regina like they are going to break into fisticuffs anytime they happen upon each other, before Emma makes a swift departure. It’s stupid she huffs, Regina and her haven’t been like that for what feels like forever. But, she acknowledges… they’ve not been seen much in Storybrooke since the curse broke… And then Cora arrived and that whole clusterfuck situation had more fighting, more anger and pain. So yeah, ok, Emma can understand their concerns… It still pisses her off though. And now they look at her as though she’s going to start breaking noses and smashing things. Hook spent some time telling anyone would listen about what happened. Her parents look at her like she’s a kicked puppy or about to disintegrate. Henry just has the baleful serious gaze she associates with Operation Cobra.

Regina just looks at her.

And Emma feels naked.

Feels ashamed that she’s having to take regular breaks from everything and everyone to go cry in the toilets, or an alley, anywhere that affords her privacy. Having to frequently dig her nails into her palms and force herself to regulate her breathing because she wants to throw up and hit things. Ruby had bumped into her in the diner and Emma had had to slam her hand on the bar surface to stop herself from slamming her hand into Ruby. She’d strangled out an apology and left quickly, taking out her frustration on the bugs tires by kicking them until she hurt her foot.

Ok, so she was getting some flashbacks. Sudden jolts of fear strangling her throat and stealing her breath, making her want to do… things. She’d found herself looking up at Whale one day, his eyebrow raised at the crouched figure with her arms raised to defend. He’d rushed over to open the door for her one day in the hospital, that’s all. Not to accost her, not to cause pain.

Some teens had run past her from behind, shouting excitedly at each other. She’d screamed and elbowed one in the middle as he’d passed, acting on instinct before realising what had happened. He’d laughed it off, saying she was just ‘ready for action at all times’ and waving bye. Emma had gone into a nearby alley and spent 15 minutes shaking.

But she’s doing ok she thinks, stubbornly ending her little stroll through the days events. She turns her attention to Regina, relishing the feeling of the woman under her, and the comfort of the bed they’re in. She just needs the occasional sleep top up from her human sleeping pill. And she thinks she’s getting less sensitised to triggers or whatever they’re called. Maybe she should google PTSD.

It’d probably tell her she had cancer though, Emma snorts.

“What are you snorting at?” Regina urges quietly, hand lightly stroking lines along Emma’s arm.

Emma listens to the steady _thump thump_ of Regina’s heart and doesn’t know how to share what’s going on in her head, knowing Regina will just tell her to go to see Archie if she mentions anything specific. And that will make Emma want to leave because she doesn’t want to hear that. She doesn’t want to hear the disappointed sigh. And she just wants a good night’s sleep. Wants to soak in the calm that being pressed up against Regina gives her. She is being selfish. This makes her feel guilty and more disgusted with herself. She’s using Regina. She thinks Regina knows this.

She also thinks Regina can’t say no to her right now and the thought marinates at the back of her mind when she’s feeling desperate.

“Why did you walk away from us at the docks when we got back?”

Regina stills her hand for a moment and takes a deep breath. “I thought we would go back to what we were.”

“Really? After all we’ve been through?”

Regina hums noncommittedly, fingers returning to their comforting path.

“It’s funny, a lot of people still react like you and I are going to suddenly break into an argument.”

She can practically hear Regina smirk, and does actually hear the gentle chuckle from the brunette.

“Yes. Well, we did that a lot Emma.”

“I’m glad we don’t anymore,” she whispers, gently squeezing Regina’s waist with the arm she has slung across her abdomen.

“Me too,” the other woman whispers back and they both fall quiet again.

“Henry is getting upset.” She can’t help the words escaping and her heart drops with a heavy clunk in her chest as she wishes fervently she could suck the sentence back behind her clenched teeth.

Regina stiffens and sucks in a sharp breath, her frame already drawing away infinitesimally and Emma curses everything that she is. She has the sudden threat of tears and she chokes back a sob and apologises wetly.

“You _know_ what my thoughts on the matter are, Emma.” Regina grits out. Emma can feel the sharp anger emanating from the woman under her and can feel the mental and physical retreat. She reaches and throws her arms around Regina.

“Please, god – _please_ Regina – I’m sorry.” She clutches at Regina, pulling her back against her front as the woman tries to move away. “I’m sorry,” Emma whispers over and over resting her forehead against the tense woman’s shoulder. She can hear Regina struggling for deep breaths, regulating herself. She can practically _see_ those nostrils flaring. Emma lets out a shaky sigh of relief as Regina gives up on trying to pull herself from her grasp and settles back.

“Emma,” Regina whispers, her voice shaking and Emma stops breathing, alert and red siren bells alarming in her head as she reads _that_ tone. “Don’t abuse my feelings towards you. _Don’t_ take advantage of me.” The words are so quiet, so low that Emma strains hard to catch them and she’s not even sure if she has them right before Regina is twisting jerkily in her arms, the brunettes hands coming up to cup Emma’s cheeks. Lips settle for a second against her forehead before brown eyes pull back and settle on hers. Even in the dark Emma can see the slight shimmer of moisture and her heart twists. It’s like a punch to the stomach even whilst her guilt tightens around her throat and her disgust rears its ugly, nasty head.

“Don’t come back here until you go see Archie.” Emma closes her eyes as those words slam against her and she gasps. It’s like someone’s ripped off the covers in the midst of winter and someone is reaching into her chest and squeezing that vital organ.

She nods with something like resigned acceptance, before burrowing against the older woman. Regina’s hands come up to cradle her head and she hums, hums random stupid ditty’s that Emma just _knows_ – has heard many times before, in the dark. She cuddles in, breathing in Regina, breathing in her comfort and scent as though she could stock up on _her_. As though anchoring herself to the presence of this woman could keep her calm and collected for her continued trials.

Because she won’t be going to see Archie, she knows this without a doubt. She is _not_ up for that, no matter what Regina says, no matter what Henry tries and fails to hide on his face. She can’t face it, she’s got to keep going with her demons, has to fight them herself like she did back in Neverland and she will win because Emma Swan is a stubborn motherfucker.

So she doesn’t reply. She doesn’t make any promises she knows she’s not going to keep. Doesn’t even try and she can feel Regina sigh with resignation.

She sucks in slow, deep breaths as Regina continues to hum, trying to store the scent of her. It’s different here, clean and free of dirt, sweat, the general stink of someone unable to wash – but it’s still _Regina_ – undeniably her and it is like the best drug to Emma. She soaks in being surrounded by the brunette, tries to imprint the feeling onto her soul if she could, focuses intensely on the gentle muscle of her arms wrapped under and over her, the touch of her fingertips and palms resting against her head – the soft gentle curve of her belly pressed against Emma’s chest. You’d think she knew all these details inside out considering the amount of times she’d shared warmth with the brunette, the long nights and days pressed against each other until it became second nature for them. It’s scarily intimate for Emma to be lying like this with someone, it would normally have her bolting for the door and not looking back as she runs a mile but it’s something Emma has come to depend on so much with the other woman she doesn’t know how she’d go on without this being in her life sometimes…

But go on she must, she acknowledges as Regina whispers fiercely against her hair, “This is the last time Emma, please don’t take advantage, don’t do this to me.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the delightful unrequitedkegs for beta-ing and picking up after my shocking mess of grammar <3

Henry might only be 12 but he’s not stupid he thinks sullenly. He’s been through stuff. He had the Evil Queen as a mother and had to spend a long time living in fear of _her._ He’s been kidnapped bypeople, he’s been a _prisoner_ , he’s been manipulated and messed with “in the name of Pan”.

He doesn’t have nightmares anymore, doesn’t wake up feeling like something is sitting on his chest with a hand around his throat. He doesn’t dread going to sleep like he did for a little while when he got home. Doesn’t wake up to Snow or David stroking his forehead or his shoulder, doesn’t wake up with the overwhelming craving for his mom – to dive into her arms. Though she is _still_ his mom and he does still want that sometimes… but not so much for this. So he’s good, Henry thinks, a little bit proud and a little bit relieved. He’s not been affected like his moms have been.

Henry sees Regina crying, he’s not unobservant. He sees her trying to hurriedly wipe away tear tracks on her cheeks when he pops his head into her study or her room. She has nightmares. He can hear her crying out – it’s a mixture of Emma’s name, or someone called Leopold… and he thinks he knows who that is but doesn’t want to ask. The fingers of unease slip down his spine and give him the creeps. She doesn’t remember these dreams though, or she’s lying to him – telling him she slept well when they breakfast together, forcefully ignoring the dark circles under her eyes and her nervousness. The lying irks him, but he is starting to understand the difference between lies and _lies._  She cups his chin and asks if he is sleeping ok? _If he’s fared better than her,_ she means on some unspoken level, he believes.

It’s only when Emma is there that he sleeps through the night; only when he knows his other mother is here that his mom actually _sleeps_. Actual, peaceful, deep sleep. And it’s warring within him because… this is something they both clearly need… but Emma is avoiding him. He knows she is and he’s hurt by it. It feels like rejection a hundred times when she smiles nervously and makes an excuse as to why they can’t go for a walk or to his castle. Or why she won’t come over for tea with him and his mom.

It makes him sad, makes him think of the bad days, the days before he went to find Emma. The days where there was something wrong and he knew what it was but wasn’t sure how to fix it other than depend on someone else. He wants Emma to fix this. Or his Mom. He’s not sure. But he feels bad inside and it makes him well up sometimes before he pushes it down into that box he has in his mind where he tries to put the bad things.

He wants to be good. Wants to support his moms. And he will go to the ends of the earth for his mom[t1]  now.  He understands when she’s sad; he knows her well.  Can tell when she’s sad and he just tries to make her smile.  He’s glad Emma brought him back home and he’s sorry for what he did to his mom; sorry for the pain he caused her.  He understands it a little better now that he’s a little older; understands the cruelty of his young words way back when.  It makes guilt prickle at his chest and tummy, so he tries to be kind and considerate in the ways he can think of.  He had tried to make her breakfast in bed the morning after he came home; he’d burnt her coffee he thinks, but she’d sipped it and pronounced it perfect before pressing a kiss to his hair.

With Emma…  He’s trying so hard, trying his best to be understanding of her. He still doesn’t know what happened, and it grates so bad. It upsets him that _no-one_ will talk to him about this, not really. Emma makes him back off with skittish eyes and jerky movements. Regina just smiles sadly. Snow and David are not much more use. He knows Emma’s been through something bad, just like him. But he’d come out ok hadn’t he? Surely Emma being older and wiser would mean she was ok? So what the hell happened over there that made her _not_ ok? He wishes people wouldn’t mollycoddle him; would be straight with him. Had they forgotten he’s gone through horror too?

Henry sits on his hands at his castle, staring out at the sea. This is where he comes to do his most intense thinking. It’s where he came when he got back from Neverland, processing being manipulated, his determined unwavering faith in his moms, his fear and terror. It’s where he used to come when he was worried before Emma came… and after too, he smiles, sadly, remembering her and him talking out here many times.

He stares at the horizon, not really seeing the boats bobbing and the seagulls swooping around with their shrill calls.  Maybe he is being ungrateful, his chin wobbles a little.  Maybe he should be thankful he has them both back in one piece.  But it doesn’t feel like it, not when one is avoiding him – one who has _never_ felt the need to hide, and the other is holding herself together so tightly even Henry can tell she’s not far from crumbling.  And he can’t seem to do anything about it.

A tear escapes his eyes and Henry feels foolish, powerless, and ungrateful all at once. He just wants his family to be ok and back to normal.  That’s not selfish is it?  He’s spent so long fearing, then planning and scheming before realising – realising his mom is his and his alone, and Emma – she is his too.  And he is _theirs._  He doesn’t want them to fight anymore, _adores_ the fact they don’t.  Even before their new friendship that saw them sleeping together – he’d peeked once after seeing them sharing a bed that time with David – had heard two sets of footsteps going into his mother’s room late when he was supposed to be asleep but was under his covers with a torch and comics, striving for normality.  He’d waited for a while then snuck with morbid curiosity and hurt warring within and there they were – curled up like cats in the quiet of the night.  He would be cool if they were a thing. That’d be cool.  He guesses love is the same whoever it’s with.

He’s being silly, sitting out here in the cold, thinking bad, painful thoughts and regretting the stupid tears rolling down his cheeks.  They sting in the cold wind and he wishes he’d brought his scarf.  His mom would’ve scolded him.  This thought makes him smile a little.  Longing for some normalcy, he turns the collar of his jacket up and pushes his hands deeper into his pockets.  He feels a bit useless because he’s used to being in the centre of the drama and the operations to fix things.  He doesn’t like the idea that Emma needs to be fixed,  but he doesn’t know how else to phrase it.

It feels like he is stuck, waiting and wallowing a little in misery whilst things beyond his control have to work themselves out and it’s frustrating.   Henry just sighs; what else can he really do?  He’s getting batted aside at every plea for information and he can’t really do anything but hang around waiting for things to get better.

Still, at least he can help his mom;  try to keep her smiling, right?  Because he can read her like a book, and although he knows she’s grateful for him being back in her house and her arms, he can tell she’s fragile and brittle, like she’s fearful…and he knows it’s for Emma.

 

* * *

 

_It’s with the panicked clarity of immediate pain that Emma dodges to the left and kicks away a blade swinging for her.  Her heart is in her throat and pain is screaming from every part of her battered and bruised body.  She’s been fighting like a wild animal forever.  Hissing. Spitting. Clawing at anything and everything.  She knows she can’t keep up this level of agility as she leaps over a body and crunches her fist into a nose.  Pain radiates up her arm.  Blood streams from the man’s nose and he grins at her, blood staining his teeth and he swings for her without missing a beat.  He catches her in the chest and she flies – flies into stone and crashes to the ground.  He’s on her in an instant, blows raining down and she can’t do anything but try to fend him off and try to escape.  His boot slams into her side and she screams.  Her side is on fire and she just can’t. She can’t._

_She’s howling.  She’s screaming as she feels her ribs crack and she sinks further to the ground, cradling her side.  Her cheek scrapes roughly against the stones on the ground.  It’s all pain.  Tears bite at her eyes.  The light slowly fades from her vision and she feels her thoughts slowing down, noises growing dim as she hears the crunch of dirt and stone as boots approach her._

_She’s bitten her tongue and her mouth fills - sharp, heavy iron.  Hot blood spills from her mouth, down her chin, and she grimaces as rough hands grip her biceps entirely too tightly._

_She’s being pulled down a roughly hewn corridor, her feet dragging, and the pain in her side causing her vision to go all blurry as she tries to take an interest in her surroundings; to fight her way past the screaming chaos that is her awareness right now, but that is near impossible. The red raw rage is clawing at her consciousness and she feels her vocal chords strain as she cries out when she is dumped on the cold ground.  She hears cruel laughter, the sickening soundtrack of her nightmares, and a short panicked bark of “leave her alone” punctuates her pulsing awareness.  She curls in on herself, her chest hurts._

_Oh god it hurts._

_She hears the clanging of iron and fuck it hurts too much to breathe.  She sinks inwards, only vaguely aware of cool hands and a comforting touch; barely hearing soft worried words and whispered promises of everything being ok._

_She believes Regina._

_She will always believe Regina._

_Emma comes to with a cool cloth pressed against her forehead and a warm hand clutching her own. “Are you quite done playing hero yet?”  Emma coughs and tries to grin rakishly but she knows it comes off twisted.  She can still taste the sharp tang of blood.  She probably looks like a horrific spectre right now._

_She fades in and out of consciousness, her head cushioned by Regina’s jacket and she notes the other woman shivering but resolutely alert and guarding and Emma passes out again before she can comment._

_She comes to again, with Regina cradling her head and pressing the palm of her hand forward, urging her to drink.  The fire blooms across her torso though, and she’s left breathless and clutching at Regina’s arm, digging her nails in and not caring about the water now seeping into her top._

_“Fuck!” she shouts, loud and angry as she tries to set herself down again, to not be in pain and she just howls as her ribs grind and she feels sick to her stomach.  Regina is hovering, apologising, her hands fluttering all over her but not touching._

_Emma swallows and blinks back the tides of tears that are desperate to fall and she tries to focus on the woman – the closest she’s ever observed Regina to flapping in a panic.  The image soothes her just a little, and she is able to crack a small smile, hideous though she knows she looks._

_“Hey,” she manages, sneaking her hand into Regina’s trembling hand and stroking her thumb along the back of it.  She passes out again._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone's support and feedback <3  
> And to my delightful beta Unrequitedkegs :D

_She’s back there, an arm slung low and protective over her ribs because god fucking damnit – she backs up hastily, unsteadily, blocking out the laugher and jeers, gritting her teeth to keep her vision straight. It’s cold, and she’s sweating like a bitch. Emma hefts the dull blade in front of her, keeping it between her flesh and her tormenter._

_They’d woken her up with a bucket of freezing water before dragging her from the cell by her leg, Regina’s shouts echoing behind her. The pain had caused her to pass out almost immediately and she’d come to with a solid slap to her check that had send her reeling. Someone spat in her face._

_“Time to play again little girl.”_

_She’s choked again with memories, mist and fear._

_A flash to her right and she twists, screaming, blocking weakly before limping away. She can’t focus on much more than forcing air through her nose and trying to not collapse._

_Her fucking ribs!_

_Pain explodes from her leg as a boot impacts and she falls._

_Faces crowding, boots, legs, as she curls into a ball._

_She just wishes they were not here anymore, as a brutal kick crashes into her spine. She cries out, arching, then clutching at her ribs._

_Tears pour from her eyes, red raw – she can’t breathe. It’s too much, it’s just too much._

_More kicks, and the blows rain down from above, and she can’t fight back this time – she’s too weak. She can’t go on. She’s done._

_Emma thinks of brown eyes and a young boy, of unfamiliar certainty and of possibilities._

_She’s pushing herself to her feet, breaths coming in ragged, raw blasts. She’s a mess, she’s clawing and gouging. Screaming her anger and pain as she wildly attacks anything that moves in her field of vision._

_She finds a rock and smashes. Revelling in the blood that blows from a skull, caved in by her rage;  anger burns through her veins. She will kill every one of these motherfuckers._

Emma wakes up screaming and grabs the first thing that comes to her hand and throws. She throws the lamp with all her might, the cable tearing itself from the socket with the loud crash of it shattering against the wall clearing her mind from her horror. She clutches at her chest and her ribs, marvelling at them not hurting and breathing wildly. She tries to breathe normally but she can’t. Her pulse is thundering in her ears, fluttering in her chest. She’s ready to fight, to defend and she can’t slow down, can’t get herself to calm.

Snow and David burst into the room and Emma snarls before flinging herself at her father and colliding with him, sending them both to the floor. Snow shrieks and tries to get out of the way of the flailing limbs and Emma can’t stop – she needs to kill or she will be killed, she cries out as David grabs at her arms and she wrenches herself from restraint and flies toward Snow.

Snow slaps her with a well-timed swing - the sharp crack silencing the room.

Emma falls back onto her backside, shock and horror curling through her.

What has she done?

_What has she done?_

Snow and David approach and she is scuttling back towards the wall, a hand held out, she can’t breathe. Emma is furious. She’s disgusted with herself.

She’s losing control.        

She can’t breathe.

Emma bursts into tears as David unflinchingly kneels next to her and pulls her to his solid chest. His arms go around her and cradle her head in his almost giant hands.

She’s weak, and she’s wildly sucking in large lungful’s of air. She needs to calm.

Snow stands for a few seconds, eying her with pursed lips. Emma looks back at her, mind wailing, mouth silent. There are no words. Nothing she can say. She’s been exposed, she’s raw, and she’s at a fucking loss.

Her mother steps over uttering her name softly, she kneels too – resting her head against her daughter’s and Emma is about to explode from the fear and the shame and the overwhelming maelstrom inside.

The unconditional love she’s wrapped in right now feels too much – not enough.

“Emma,” David rumbles. He’s quiet, keeping her anchored and her mother is breathing slowly, loudly, allowing her to try to copy and come back to herself. She clings to that soundtrack desperately. She feels herself slowing, becoming still. She doesn’t know how long she stays there, but they don’t move. They don’t disturb her quiet.

She resists the call of sleep again, knowing, fearing. She’s not subjecting them to that again; is too scared to let herself go back _there._

Not here, not tonight. She’s frightfully awake, her nerves jangling,  chest hurting. She won’t sleep again, she shakes her head firmly at Snow’s gentle but insistent words - offers of sleeping beside her. She could fall asleep being cradled by her parents, only 28 years late… Emma only wants to sleep next to one person.

 

* * *

 

Emma’s back on the beat – she’s pounding the pavements and she’s pissed off. Childishly stomping her boots as she walks because fuck it – she’s sleeping shit. More nightmares. More fucking flashbacks to that god forsaken place. That nightmarish reality she’d been trapped in for _weeks_. Memories of the goddamn pain, the torture, and shit she had to pull herself through.

Fuck Regina. Fuck her for seeing through her and into her and _fuck her_ for saying no; for saying that she couldn’t go back. Fuck her. Just fuck.

Because she’s having to talk herself out of going over to Regina’s almost every night. She’s _trying_ to not take advantage of the other woman. She knows fine well she could go over and steal through the door and into Regina’s bed. The brunette won’t… can’t say no. Emma knows this. She knows it in her soul. Knows it in the guilt that is pickling her insides. But she’s trying to be _nice,_ to do the _right_ thing here. Even though it’s resulting in her slamming doors a little too hard, dark circles under her eyes, and swallowing ever more guilt from Henry’s increasingly dull face.

Her parents have backed off as well – barking at them to leave her the _hell_ alone seems to have toned down on the smothering mothering – Snow desperately repeating that she’s _sorry_. She’s not used to that level of vigilant fluffiness and she can’t stomach it. Emma feels the familiar resentment that she’s never _quite_ been able to crush and it’s gently been stewing away in her belly for a long time. It’s only in the calm that she can reason with herself, reason with her life about the situation her parents were in. But it just means that sometimes, _sometimes_ resentment colours her feelings for her parent’s actions. Then there was the declaration of desiring more children she remembers. Emma’s throat burns. All this shit is coming back and jostling for attention in her mind and it won’t go away.

Can she blame Regina for this? Can she blame her for this and for falling and hurting her ankle – she’s the reason – she’s the goddamn reason for all of this.

Except she’s not really. The universe and its cruelty is at fault. It’s not Regina. It’s _not_ Henry, she vehemently reminds herself.

She’s broken from her internal shouting match with the universe by Mrs P or whatever her name is and what the hell does she want?

“Sheriff,” the old woman is all timid and Emma sucks in a deep breath, bracing her hands on her hips. Tries not to grimace at her behaviour, knowing it’s coming off as standoffish. “My cat has been missing for a day.”

“Right, I’ll keep an eye out.” Emma starts to move off but she’s stopped by the woman whose lips are pressed into a thin line.

“Sheriff Swan, I’m really worried.” Emma nods and pats the woman on her arm.

“I’m sure he’s ok and will turn up ma’am. But I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Don’t you think you should have a look around the neighbourhood?”

Emma was _not_ rooting through the goddamn bushes for a fucking cat.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary – you know cats,” She tries to be jovial to Mrs P, tries to at least appear sympathetic but really. It’s a fucking cat. Cats leave and come back.

It’s a cat thing.

“But I really think-“

Emma snaps before thinking, “It’s just a fucking cat!” Mrs P looks stricken and her mouth is opening and closing like a fish. Emma just doesn’t have the patience for this. Nope. Shaking her head, she brushes past the irritating woman and continues down the road.

She tastes the familiar salting of guilt but shoves it down.

Maybe she should go see Archie. But then that’s like… admitting _it_. Admitting loss. And Emma just. She just can’t. Yet. She’s getting there. Slowly. Sort of. The night with her parents… It was a slight setback that’s all.

Emma frowns and she shoves her hands aggressively into her jean pockets.

It’s like everyone wants her to get help but they also expect her to be the sheriff and the fucking saviour and if she gets help it’s like she’s neither. She’s not worthy of being either. And she’s fine.

 _No she’s not_ but that thought gets angrily shoved to the back of her mind and is swiftly overtaken by her ongoing internal monologue of irritation at Regina.

She needs sleep, she needs unbroken rest – no chest crushing nightmares, no memories of knives and pain and tremulous touches.

Emma ignores Archie and Pongo as one greets her with a cheery wave and the other with a wag of a tail. No.

She marches around Storybrooke for hours. Thinking about everything and nothing. She’s tired and cold and pissed off. Possibly more than she was. Maybe less. Who knows any more. She’s so tired she could cry and she can feel the frustration building in her head; can feel the anxiety tickling her through.

Is it too early to go over? To beg to be let into Regina’s bed? She flips out her phone and texts one word. _Please._ She’s too stubborn to be explicit, to be wordy. She just want’s succour and sleep. She wants Regina.

Emma ends up at the docks, sitting on a bench. It’s _the_ benches she realises – the ones her and Regina sat on talking about Neal what feels like a lifetime ago. How things have changed. She holds her phone in her hand and her knee bounces up and down, nervous energy making her jittery.

She just needs Regina to say yes, fine, ok – whatever. She doesn’t want to have to go over there and wheedle her way in because she’s feeling just unhinged enough to want to disregard the brunette’s feelings. Her phone doesn’t buzz. Not for five minutes, not for thirty. She picks herself up and walks the fair distance to Regina’s front door.

It’s like Regina can sense her because she’s waiting at the door as she stalks up the steps. Her brow is furrowed and the lines around those beautiful brown eyes are tight. She looks tired.

“Henry will be home soon, and I don’t want him seeing you.”

“Fine,” Emma readily agrees.

Regina studies her measuredly for a moment, standing square in the doorway, It makes Emma want to quail and withdraw – Regina has this way of seeing right through her, into her, and Emma swallows. The brunette relents, shaking her head with fingers pressed to the bridge of her nose.

Emma sweeps past her and tries to ignore the “Damnit, Emma.” The soft words that tug at her heart and poke at the ball of guilt she’s steadily cramming down. She practically runs up the stairs, not caring if Regina is coming up directly behind her. She doesn’t expect her to. Not yet. It’s not even seven yet, the sun still lingering in the sky. The day is not done but Emma is done with it. She carelessly strips off her jacket and boots, hopping on one leg precariously, and peels off her jeans. She dives into the divinely soft sheets and _Regina_ – her scent envelops Emma and it’s like a weight is lifted.

She doesn’t care that she’s wriggling around like an eel for a few seconds, burrowing in, wrapping herself in sheets that shield her from the _crap_. Emma looks over her head at Regina who’s appeared at the door way. The brunette just sighs with exasperation and sets about picking up Emma’s clothing. It’s domestic. It’s painful. It’s _needed._ Emma lays her head down again and closes her eyes, praying for Regina to not say anything. She just wants to relax, to be able to sleep some. She doesn’t want her mind to keep going around in angry circles like it has been all day. All week. She doesn’t want to be caught in this web of angst right now and Regina saying something to her will just suck her back in.

The other woman just comes over and smooths back Emma’s hair, causing her eyes to blink open again and look up into her eyes. Emma closes her eyes as Regina presses a kiss to her temple and sighs again before leaving the room, the door shutting with a soft click.

Thank god thank god thank god. Emma lets herself fully relax now.

She’s being an asshole.

But right now? Surrounded by Regina, _finally,_ she doesn’t give a shit.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger warning for sexual assault, rape, dub con and captain swan(but not remotely graphic for the cs)*
> 
> SO, i've been fretting over this chapter. Things are coming to a head, and it's going to be painful for all involved. Apologies. (NOT! SUFFER!! MUAH HA HA HA)  
> Shout-out to the ever delightful Paige (@pokerwithellen over on twitter) for brainstorming pain and angst with me <3  
> And to my lovely beta, unrequitedkegs, who tuts at my inability to write in one tense consistantly and weird phrasing :p

“Why are you so ok?”

Emma’s curled into Regina’s side once more, her head resting on a strong shoulder and her arm flung across her midriff. This is her favourite way to lie with the other woman. Regina’s arm curves down, across the small of her back, fingers dancing sporadically at the curve of her waist. It’s their thing. She contemplates the question she’s just asked, wonders, truly, if Neverland has effected Regina even remotely on the same level as her. But then, Regina has always seemingly had her shit together way better than Emma ever has.

She’d come by tonight, turning up on the doorstep with downcast eyes and nervous feet. Regina had pursed her lips and crossed her arms, blocking her entrance until Emma had just edged her way around her tense body, not making eye contact. She’d taken her boots off by the door before carrying them up the stairs, mindful of Henry. Careful and cautious and almost as though being quiet would somehow lessen the impact of the figure at the door – disapproval and irritation radiating off her in waves.

“Who says I am?”

Emma pushes herself up, hovering over Regina. The room is illuminated only by the unearthly glow of moonlight coming in through the windows. She searches dark eyes, the faintly visible lines around them – the tired slope of eyelids. She settles back down, lower, head resting on Regina’s belly. She can hear the clicking of her intestines faintly in the quiet.

“I’m being selfish.” Her fingers play a ditty against dark silk.

“Yes you are.” Regina’s fingers curl into Emma’s hair anyway and she scratches idly. “You need to see Archie.”

Emma is silent, her fingers stilling for a moment before continuing. She starts to draw small swirls against the delicate material. “You can’t make me.”

Regina hums in agreement, fingers never ceasing.

“No, it has to be for you, Emma.”

“And if I never go?” Emma mentally braces herself for the answer. She doesn’t want to go. She doesn’t want to talk about this at all. Still. She knows she’s being a shit person by leaning so heavily on those around her, taking it out on whoever is there when she needs to but she just can’t bring herself to give a damn. She is getting better, she reasons. Just sometimes… sometimes something pisses her off.

Regina still hasn’t answered.

“I don’t know how to deal with you here.”

“Is that why you avoid me most of the time? Or is it because you just think I’ll tell you to go see Archie?”

Emma snorts, gently. “I want to kiss you again.”

“I don’t think that is a good idea, Emma.”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

Regina clamps up and stiffens.

“I see.” Emma pushes herself up onto her knees. “I see,” She replies slowly, feeling suddenly numb. Then suddenly she’s angry, “I see how it is,” she spits, jumping off the bed and pulling on her jeans with quick, sharp tugs.

“Emma,” Regina sits up, her face in agony but Emma dismisses it.

“I see how it is.  We can kiss in the heat of the moment in Neverland, where I’m fighting and risking my life for you, but back here? I’m not enough am I? What is it?” She spies her boots and starts yanking them on angrily, “Am I not tough enough or something? Am I not doing well enough even though I’ve been through fucking _shit?”_ Her voice is raising now, her throat tight and she can feel tears burning in her eyes. “Well, just…. Fuck you.”

“Emma!” Regina scrabbles off the bed, she tries to grab Emma, but she’s too slow and Emma shoves her back onto the bed. Tears are falling and Emma doesn’t care. She doesn’t even notice.

“I’m never good enough.”

“Emma, don’t be ridiculous.” Regina reaches for her again, but Emma is not interested. She’s stuck now, feelings of complete inadequacy roar through her mind. She’s never enough. Wasn’t enough for her parents, who threw her into a fucking tree and shipped her off. Abandoned her. Never enough for the town. She’s always second guessed. Always questioned with narrowed eyes.

Emma’s done.

She buttons up her pants, finishes ramming her feet into her boots, and stands up.

“Emma please wait,”

Emma can’t hear Regina; she’s done. She’s so done right now. She spies her jacket on floor and smoothly grabs it and pulls it on before she’s stilled by strong arms being thrown around her. Regina presses against her, warm and solid. Her breath tickles at the back of Emma’s neck and it sends shivers down her spine, but, _no_ , Emma can’t think like that.

Regina has made her case. Emma isn’t good enough. She’s not good enough.

“Emma, please – please calm down.” Regina’s voice is breaking, her body quivering against Emma’s back.

Emma grabs Regina’s arms carefully, coldly, and pries them open, stepping out smoothly. She walks from the room without looking back.

 

* * *

 

_Regina’s crying, Emma can feel it in the soft impact of a tear drop, in the quiver of her voice._

_“Emma, please.”_

_She’s got her face close to Emma’s, her hands are on her cheeks. She’s crying kind of pitifully and sniffing between shuddering breaths._

_“Hey now, what’s up?”_

_Regina lets out a choked sob of relief and her head drops onto Emma’s chest. Her thumb caresses Emma’s earlobe and the other hand moves down to her waist, digging in slightly._

_It’s been another dirty, violent fight with Emma being overwhelmed by viciousness and pain._

_Another blurry, broken journey back to what she’s disturbingly thinking of as “their” cell, back to the comfort of Regina._

_She can’t really remember what’s gone before, what state she might have been in… it’s all blurring into one grotesque montage of blood and pain now._

_She moves her arm, even though pain radiates up her bones, threads her fingers into matted hair._

_“Hey, it’s ok, I’m here,” she scratches her fingers against Regina’s scalp, feeling her nod vaguely._

_Regina rubs her forehead against Emma’s chest, causing that ball of affection she’s been holding in her chest to bloom into something more._

_Her lips are dry and split and her nose fucking hurts but she can’t help but act. She groans as she shifts her muscles to urge Regina’s face up up, finds her lips in the pitch black with her own. She swallows her own discomfort at her abused skin and Regina’s sudden gasp and it’s awkward, teeth clacking._

_Til she tilts her head and -_

_Oh_

_It’s good._

_It’s very good and they both instinctively try to pull one another closer._

_But she’s on fire for good and bad reasons now and can’t help the flinch of pain – the sharp gasp and groan - as she tries to shift. Regina pulls away slightly and rests her forehead on Emma’s. It’s a moment of levity amongst the horror as they both laugh a little before reality claims them again._

_Regina pulls back a little and tentatively lies down, tucking her arm under Emma’s head. Emma smiles in the dark, her lips stretching and cracking but she doesn’t care. She lets Regina pull her head gently towards her, the brunette’s arm curling up and around, her hand resting on Emma’s forehead. Regina shuffles herself in, sliding an arm across Emma’s midriff. They gently settle against each other as the temperature begins to drop. It’s gonna be colder than usual Emma thinks, but right now? She doesn’t care._

_She stays awake as long as she can, listening to Regina’s breathing evening out. It’s something precious, something Emma has become aware of and latched on to_   _. Something that reminds her why she’s doing what she’s doing. Her body is screaming every time she moves but she slowly inches her hand up, fingers crawling, until she slips her palm over Regina’s arm. The older woman sighs in her sleep, a small gust of warm air brushing against Emma’s neck and she smiles and smiles and sleeps._

 

* * *

 

“Regina,” David breathes, relief obvious and thick through the tinny speaker.

“David.” She acknowledges, crossing her arms, her legs. She’s been prepared for him calling all evening. She knows more or less what the situation is going to be.

“She’s a mess and she won’t stop asking for you.”

Regina takes a moment to collect her thoughts. Of course she is. She could have predicted this. Could have predicted Emma’s poor actions, her poor choices after her flight from Regina’s bedroom.

“She’s a mess.” He repeats.

“Of course she is. I’ll see you shortly” She hangs up because of course David is going to bring her over. Of course he will.

David arrives and practically carries Emma out of his pickup. She’s stumbling along, an unsettling grin on her face as she fiddles with her fingers abstractedly in front of her face.

“Regina!” she sing songs gently as David guides her up the path and to the door.

“She’s a mess.” He repeats once again, and Regina has to take a deep breath to stop from snapping at him.

Regina slides her arm around Emma, who instantly drops her head and her weight onto Regina.

“Do you want-“

“I will be _fine_ ,” she barks before softening her tone and thanking him. “I’m sorry…” She’s not sure why she’s apologising. It’s not like she’s apologising for Emma’s poor behaviour here. She’s infuriated and worried for the younger woman. She’s not apologising for her own though. This is not on Regina. This is on Emma and her poor ability to make good choices.

Emma’s head lolls against Regina’s neck and she pulls her up tighter in her arms – she reeks. Alcohol, smoke. Leather.

And not Emma’s unique scent of leather.

The thought sours Regina’s thoughts and she can’t help the frown from forming on her face

“Well, I guess,” David is awkward and backing towards the car whilst also making hand gestures towards the house.

“It’s fine, I’ve got her.” And Regina did. She’s had Emma through hell and pain and she’s still in one piece. In body at least. Regina wonders at Emma’s mind. Wonders at what wasteland and shattered confabs are being constructed in there to cope.

The blonde pushes herself against Regina, sliding an uncoordinated hand around her waist.

“Hey,” She purrs, nose pressing against the flesh of Regina’s neck,

Regina shivers, unbidden. She guides the blonde up the steps and into the house, praying fervently that Henry doesn’t wake up, doesn’t come to investigate. She orders Emma to remove her boots in the hallway, bracing her as she toes off black leather. Up the stairs Regina struggles, into her bathroom - sweating with the effort. Emma slumps against the counter, knocking something to the floor and Regina sighs, exasperated. Emma is uncoordinated, lazy and slow with the alcohol and she stretches like a cat, back arching and flesh baring between her jeans and her top. Regina tries not to stare, tries not to let Emma see her eyes being drawn to that tantalising strip of skin.

She fails.

Emma crosses across the scant space between them, allowing only a bare inch to remain, Regina swallows and can feel her heart begin to race. The stink of alcohol is making her choke slightly though and she brings her hands up to try to push Emma off as the blonde leans in with a sickening leer and brushes her ear with parted lips.

“He’s got nothing on you, Regina.”

Regina’s heart sinks to her feet and she closes her eyes briefly _._

_How dare she._

Fury blooms in her chest like ink falling into water.

Regina shoves Emma away sharply, close to not caring that the blonde slips stumbles and almost falls. She grabs her arm to pull her upright, and manoeuvres Emma firmly into the shower cubicle. She turns it on full power - the water soaking them both and Emma sinks to the floor unsteadily. Her hands push out against the tiles and the glass sides as she tries to keep herself upright.

Regina’s angry. She’s fucking furious and a hundred other adjectives that mean her blood is boiling.

How dare she. How _fucking_ dare she.

 It’s Emma though.

It’s Emma.  Regina can’t keep up this level of rage as she looks at blonde hair plastered to a pale face. Can’t stay mad as Emma tries pathetically to move the wet strands out the way, as she curls in on herself. Regina grabs the bottle of shampoo and sinks to her knees.

She starts to take care of Emma, washes her hair. Because that’s what Regina does, that’s what she’s been doing for a while now. She massages the shampoo into Emma’s tresses and tries to ignore the spiteful voice telling her to just let her get the suds in her eyes. In everything, Regina can’t help but try to help Emma. She seethes, gently, disgust bubbling away in her belly. At herself. At Emma.

The pirate.

How dare she.

Emma pushes to her feet and struggles to take her jacket off, her top gets tangled in her arms and Regina takes pity and moves to help pull it gently off. Emma’s eyes are downcast, not meeting Regina’s. Shame is colouring her cheeks and she moves slowly, tentatively as she works at pushing her jeans and panties over her hips. Emma nudges them aside with her foot; a sodden wet heap. Regina eyes her critically as the blonde turns her back, grabbing soap. Her shoulders are sloped with defeat, exhaustion just soaking every move. Emma lathers up, and rubs her hands over her chest, head tilted down. She moves her hands quickly down, down, and she’s moving her head to the side, nervously peering back over her shoulder. It’s the shame and self-loathing that flicker on Emma’s pale features that Regina zeroes in on more than the hand washing between thighs.

Regina can’t help the sparking of anger, the words that fly from her mouth before she can reel them back.

“How _could_ you?” She snaps.

“No no no!” Emma flies around, her face pure anguish and she’s pushing Regina against the steamed glass in an instant, her hands coming up to cup Regina’s face. “I’m sorry,” Emma might be crying, she’s not sure. The steam and the water are making it difficult to see but she feels Emma’s lips on hers, kissing her hard. She tastes of rum and cigarettes and regret.

Things Regina _hates._

“No!” She tries to push Emma back but the blonde is on her insistently, and she’s stronger than Regina and hyped up with angst and alcohol. Emma’s hands are sliding down from her cheeks to her chest and she palms Regina’s breasts through wet material. Regina can’t help but moan. It’s overload. The water pounding down on them, _Emma,_ and weeks of pent up tension and fear and frustration. Regina kisses her back and clutches at Emma, her fingers digging into the taut muscle of her back.

“I’m sorry,” Emma whispers again and again, and she’s fumbling with Regina’s dress, pulling it up sloppily. She’s scoring ladders in her stockings as she goes, her nails catching. Regina can feel them tear and it sends a spike of arousal to her core. “Please, Regina,” the blonde is breathing against her lips as she slips her hand between Regina’s legs.

Regina’s head falls back, the sharp pain of hitting the glass bringing her back to reality. Emma moves her lips to Regina’s neck, hot warmth and a hint of teeth grazing her flesh, causing shivers to cascade down her spine. She wants this. She wants to let herself go for even a moment, wants to feel a lovers caress. It’s been so long. But damn, it’s so wrong.  It shouldn’t be happening.

_Not like this._

“No,” she’s breathless, “Emma, stop,” Her hands fall to slip against slick shoulders and she’s pushing at the weight of the blonde. Emma can’t hear her.

“I’m sorry,” she’s saying fervently as she sucks on Regina’s neck and damn – Regina is falling, she’s moaning as Emma strokes under her panties and teases her clit. She’s inside her before Regina can really process what is going on, putting her weight behind her hand. The force makes her slide up the glass slightly with each stroke. They’re both moaning and Regina’s nails dig into the blonde’s muscles, eliciting a pleased hiss from the blonde.

Regina closes her eyes, toes curling, “fuck” she chokes out, laying her head on Emma’s shoulder.

Shame and lust mix and it’s a stomach curdling mix. She’s almost crying with relief; she’s crying with pain and sadness.

This isn’t how it should be.

“No, Emma,” she repeats, pushing at Emma’s shoulders again. “Please stop,” a tear slips its way down her cheek.

The blonde ignores her, can’t hear her – she’s lost on her own head, continuing to kiss Regina’s neck. Her fingers drive inside forcefully, she’s whispering “I’m sorry” almost like a mantra. She’s lost in the pleasure of it, in the rhythm.

Regina struggles against Emma for a moment, her hands dropping to the blonde’s wrist and yanking. Emma’s hands are back at her cheeks an instant later, tongue forcing its way into her mouth as she is kissed desperately. “No!” She grabs Emma’s wrists and tries to tug them away. This is too close, too similar to _him_ and she’s sworn never to let someone do this to her again.

She summons strength fed on fear and anger and shoves with all her might.  Her hands fly between Emma’s wrists, pushing up and out then smacks the blonde square in the chest.

Emma flies back with a surprised cry. She falls onto the floor of the shower, meeting the solid surface with a solid thud. She’s gasping, broken sobs, shoulders shuddering and hands covering her face. Regina is shaking and pressing the back of her hand to her mouth as she fights back her own tears. She’s unable to tear her eyes from the naked woman cowering from the world and from herself. From Regina.

Regina’s shaken, she’s angry. She’s violated. She’s disgusted.

And she is so, _so_ sad.

There’s a wave of anguish she feels peaking behind her eyes, in her ribcage, in her fingers and in her throat. It’s cresting, and the wave is about to come crashing down on both of them.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina has a curious roaring in her ears, compounded with the loud hissing of the now freezing water pouring down on Emma. She forces her eyes downwards, the naked woman on the floor of the shower huddling against herself. She’s got her face in her hands and her shoulders are shuddering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PAIN :D  
> Thank you to the delightful unrequitedkegs for the beta job  
> And kudos to pokerwithellen for brainstorming and celebrating the angst with me <3

Regina has a curious roaring in her ears, compounded with the loud hissing of the now freezing water pouring down on Emma. She forces her eyes downwards, the naked woman on the floor of the shower huddling against herself. She’s got her face in her hands and her shoulders are shuddering.

They have both been silent for the past few moments. 

Regina doesn't know how to move forward from here. Emma has invaded her, broken that trust that grew like a tenacious weed in her heart. That trust that has been tended and tempered through hellfire. She feels dirty. Violated. She’d felt like she did back _there._

Back where her nightmares all came from.  

Regina shivers and suddenly remembers she's wet too. Her clothes stick to her, uncomfortably, heavy. 

Emma sits on the floor and cries, wet, heaving gasps and quiet, stifled wails.

Regina shuts off the water. “Get up,” she snaps, grabbing a towel and throwing it with some force at the huddled up woman in the shower “Get dressed, and for god’s sake, stop that.”

There’s words collecting, the tangled spikes of pain clawing their way up her throat and colliding with each other behind her teeth. Regina clenches her jaw. Even when Emma has done the most despicable thing, Regina is still trying to protect her in some small way. She has to turn away, swallow the rage. Try to. She looks at herself, dripping and cold in the mirror. There is no colour in her cheeks. Her hair is plastered to her forehead, her ears, her neck. She looks a ruin and feels like it too.

“Reg-“

“No!” Regina whips around. “No talking. I can’t talk to you right now.”

“I’m Sor-“

“God damn it.” Regina bangs her fist on the surface next to the sink. She can feel the words building, can feel the sharp tang of acid in her throat, the angry burn in her belly. She doesn’t want to feel this black anger. This black, cloying rage that she knows oh so well from long ago.

Emma stands up, her limbs shaking and tremulous like a new born foal. Regina can see her in her peripheral vision, reflected in the mirror. Everything is pale and naked. They are both raw. Emma pats herself off, slow, deliberate, over careful. As though everything is taking twice as long to accomplish. Emma tucks the towel around herself.

Regina just focuses on pulling deep breaths in through her nose, nostrils flaring with the effort. She holds the breath, and blows out slowly through her mouth. She needs to leave but can’t.

Emma.

“Regina,” She stills as she feels cold fingertips burn through her soaked top. The fingers linger, hesitant, before pressing more assuredly into her upper arm. A deep inhale sounds over her shoulder. “Can we please just talk about this?”

Regina lets out one final shuddering breath before turning, knocking Emma’s hand off. She looks at the blondes feet, pale - toenails painted a fading and chipped blue. Emma has one of her big toes curled over the other, the picture of nervousness, shyness. Regina lets her eyes travel up those slim, muscular calves and meets the white of the towel. She jumps her eyes up to the water droplets running lazily down Emma’s chest, between her breasts, up, up to the wet hair falling wildly around that proud jaw. Those anxious, pale lips, being worried at by teeth. That aristocratic nose. Regina’s eyes slowly crawl up. Freckled cheeks, flushed pink now. Those luxuriously long blonde eyelashes.

Regina can’t meet Emma’s eyes. She can’t quite bring herself to look into what she know will be soulful, pained, tortured green.

She stiffens as Emma touches her face, her palm cupping her cheek and her thumb brushing lightly just under her eye.

“Regina.”

Regina has to close her eyes. She’s being torn in two. Disgust and desire. Anger and a deep, deep longing all war within her.

“Regina,” Emma whispers, her voice trembling. “I’m so sorry. Please. Please look at me.”

Regina shakes her head, ever so slightly – her body tense beyond tense, taught, ready to break. She hears Emma’s quiet intake of breath, she can hear her swallowing. Feels the warm air of her breath upon her cold cheeks.

“I am so sorry, Regina.” Emma’s thumb takes another slow stroke below Regina’s eye. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t want that to happen. Not that way. I’m so sorry.”

Regina is quiet. She doesn’t trust herself right now. Doesn’t trust herself to just fold into Emma, to forgive her. She doesn’t trust Emma. Emma has been the safe one, at least recently. The other woman has gone to hell and back to keep her safe. Regina has never felt protection like it.

Then Emma had to go and ruin it all.

“I’m sorry about Hook.” It’s barely even a whisper, but Regina hears it.

Regina’s eyes pop open. Fury returns. It’s in her veins and unleashes the words built up behind her teeth. She rears back, slapping Emma’s hand away. She ignores the hurt look crossing Emma’s features.

Fuck. Her.

“How. Dare. You.” Regina grinds out. She pokes Emma hard in the sternum. “How dare you mention _him_.” Her volume builds as her pokes turn into a hard shove and Emma stumbles back. “How dare you consort with him!” Emma’s back hits the wall, and she turns her head to the side, bringing and arm up to shield herself. Regina smacks the arm away and leans in, her hands landing either side of Emma’s head making her flinch. “How dare you fuck him after what he did to me.” Regina screams hoarsely, and Emma jerks and meets her eyes.

“Fuck, Regina I’m-“

“Stop! Stop apologising.” Regina growls, teeth bared. “Hook! You couldn’t have made a more despicable, insulting, degrading choice, could you Emma?” Her voice Is low, dangerous now. And Emma has a deer in headlights look. “It’s just like you right now though,” Regina continues silkily, “You are destroying yourself, and everyone around you.”

Emma tries to move away, but Regina slams her hands against the wall again, stilling the blonde.

“No, you will face this _now._ I am done, Emma. I am done coddling you. Don’t come back here. Sort yourself out. You have your parents. You do not have me. You will not have Henry.”

Regina pulls away, recoiling in disgust at Emma and herself for digging her metaphorical fingers into a wound.

Emma teeters forward, eyes wild, tears leaking down her cheeks. Her voice is breaking. “Regina, please!”

“No!” Regina slaps Emma, the resounding crack echoing through the small room. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare try and use my feelings for you. Don’t talk to me. You touched me like-” Regina’s voice breaks and she brings a shaking hand up to press to her mouth.

“No, Regina, please don’t” Emma gasps, stuttering, understanding filtering across her face.

“Don’t you dare try to assuage your guilt, don’t even try.” Regina roars and Emma slumps to her knees, pressing her forehead against Regina’s wet clothes.

Emma shudders as she cries, plaintive wails muffled by soaking cloth, and Regina’s hand – damn her hand – hovers over the blondes head. Regina tears it away and clenches it. She bites her fist, willing her anger to stay and not drain away.

She hears Emma sniff and feels her fists bunch the material at her waist.

“Regina, please,” the blonde pleads. “I can’t do this without you,” She breathes.

The defeated, empty pain in Emma’s tone jars across Regina’s consciousness and her anger falters. She kneels, gathering Emma’s face in her hands. The smell of rum and cigarettes wafts over Regina and it bolsters her. “You are going to have to, Emma. You have broken this – whatever _this_ is.”

“Can I stay here tonight?”

Regina sucks in a slow, measured breath, counting to five.

“No, Emma.”

“Please.” Emma is pleading with her eyes and she is a mess. She’s a wet, tearful, broken mess. Regina’s resolve falters but she gets flashes of fingers and lips and a slither of disgust makes its way down her spine.

“No.” Regina stands abruptly, making Emma fall into her legs. She untangles herself and steps out the bathroom, stripping. “You need to get up and leave. I will get you something to wear.”

There’s no reply from the bathroom and Regina busies herself redressing, damp and uncomfortable. Emma appears, morose, blank, and sits on the bed. She makes no effort to dress herself when Regina places some clothes beside her. It’s with a resigned, irritated cluck of her tongue, Regina starts dressing the blonde, towelling her off. They don’t talk. Emma has red rimmed eyes and looks at the floor. Regina tries not to look too close and concentrates on getting the blonde appropriate to leave the house. _She’s still drunk_ flits briefly though Regina’s mind but frankly… there was no one in Storybrooke who would do Emma damage so sleeping in a hedge might do her some good.

She takes Emma’s hand, warring with herself when cold fingers intertwine with her own. She pulls her hand roughly from Emma’s grasp and pushes her in front instead, nudging the blonde down the stairs.

It’s dark in the hallway, the only light faintly streaming in through the main door.

“Regina, I’m scared.”

Regina can’t bring herself to answer, she just want’s Emma to go, for now, so she can try and put herself back together, regain some less rattled sense of equilibrium.

“I’m scared of what has happened and what is happening to me,” Emma continues, quietly, slowly.

  
“You know what you have to do.”

“I can’t do this without you, Regina.”

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

Emma sighs, resigned, tired. She crosses to the mirror in the hallway and Regina watches her watching herself. Emma braces her hands on the smooth wood of the table under, and hangs her head.

“I thought I had a good grasp on everything. I thought I was _fine.”_ The way she spits the last word is not lost on Regina.

“Goodbye, Miss Swan.” Regina reminds, moving to the door and she freezes when she hears the breaking of glass and sharp yelp.

“Please, please don’t call me that,” Emma still faces the mirror, glass shattered all over the floor, the table surface, and she’s clutching one of her hands. Regina is across the room in a flash, turning Emma and cradling her injured hand. Blood seeps from a slash across her palm.

“Emma…“ Regina breathes, and for a split second she is back in that cave, where things were terrifying yet strangely simple. She heals the wound, looking up to meet Emma’s shadowed wet, red eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” The blonde breathes once again, and now Regina’s fight is gone, it’s drained away with the tears and the sorrow that is dripping from the both of them. Now she is empty.

“I know you are,” Regina presses a kiss to where the cut was, and turns Emma’s hand over, smoothing a thumb across her knuckles.

“Regina, _please_ let me stay,” Emma begs. Regina steps back, letting their joined hands fall.

“I’m sorry.” Regina steels herself. “I can’t do this to myself anymore.” A sob tears its way from her throat, and she claps a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, Emma,” She whispers wetly, as she raises her hand and Emma is enveloped in purple smoke.

She hears a final, broken, “No, please,” as Emma, face broken, disappears and Regina falls to her knees, sobbing, head buried in her hands as she cries for them both.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the comments i love hearing if you are liking this.  
> On with the angst, maybe some light at the end of the tunnel now <3 If you squint.

Regina listens to the muted ringing of her phone abstractedly, eyes focussing on the glass surface in front of herself. She’s shivering, not just from the cold, and draws the cotton throw around her shoulders more tightly, clenching it shut with a tight, white knuckled fist.

“Regina,” David mumbles, sleep mussed and confused momentarily, the rustling of sheets and Snow’s sleepy query in the background. “Everything ok?”

She’s using the mirror on her vanity to spy on Emma because let’s face it –she can’t stay away from her – can’t stop worrying about her. Even when she’s seething quietly with anger… she can’t stop. She sees Emma lying on the cot, silent tears wet on her face, lean frame quivering under an uninspiring regulation blanket.

“No. I’m not.” She’s not sure how much to share. To be frank, she doesn’t want to share, but she is going to have to, for the good of everyone involved here. And Emma. “Everything is _not_ ok.”

David hums his understanding, the sound of his breathing coming through the call. “Emma?” He’s hesitant. Worried.

“I put her in a cell at the station. For her own safety,” she bites out, terse. She can feel tears burning in her eyes again and if she can go a lifetime without ever crying that would be a blessing.

“Ah,” David intones. He pauses for a moment, the sounds of him shuffling and then the sound of a kettle hissing filters to Regina’s ears.  “We’re both weak when it comes to her,” he says, no judgement in his voice and Regina deflates even further, a tear definitely escaping this time as her throat closes up. Emma’s reflection blurs a bit and she blinks furiously to clear it. She is _done_ with tears.

“If you could-“

“I’ll let her out in the morning and make sure she gets home alright, Regina,” David sighs into her ear. “Don’t worry.”

Regina cuts short a sharp bark of laughter then surprises herself by volunteering information.

 “How can I not? She’s self-destructing, and she won’t help herself.”

“She’s not ok, is she?”

_For the love of-_

 “No, she is not.” Regina stops herself from tossing out spiteful comments about the oblivious nature of the Charming’s because that won’t help anyone, and right now she’s feeling the need for adult kinship. Some understanding from people who might understand. David is not a bad man, and he loves his daughter, no one can argue with that, not even Regina.

Emma has stopped shaking now, her face slacking out, tear tracks drying on her pale cheeks. She’s the picture of pathetic, broken, more so than when she was physically broken in places. “Well,” David starts again in her ear, “at least physically, we can try making sure she’s ok. She needs time.”

Regina can only hum a response, as noncommittal as she can be. She doesn’t know what Emma needs… maybe a kick to the backside… but ultimately she is the only one who can help herself here. Avoiding her problems won’t help, and Regina is desperately trying to shore up her commitment to not being an enabler anymore.

“Listen,” David interrupts her introspection, “get some sleep as best you can. There’s nothing to be done by losing sleep worrying right now. She’s safe, yes?”

Regina nods before remembering David can’t see her. “Yes, she’s safe.”

“I trust your judgement.” The words hit Regina like a dull sprinkling to her awareness. A minor weight lifting. Minor. But it was there. Funny how something like that from David of all people affected her. “Get some sleep, I’ll see her in the morning and I’ll keep in touch.” David yawns before humming. She can hear the sound of a teaspoon hitting porcelain.

“Ok,” Regina hung up, looking back at the mirror. She waves the image away and contemplates her reflection. Her hair was hanging limply, not quite dry yet, lips thin and pale, bags under her eyes. What a frightful mess. She sighs, bone weary and sad.

“Mom?” Henry’s head pokes around her door. He doesn’t ask if she’s ok, just comes to her and snakes his gangly arms around her shoulders. He rests his cheek against hers. Her heart swells at her son willingly hugging her, it has done for a while now and it probably will do forever, given their recent tense history. She was ready to accept that she would never again get willing physical affection from him. And damn, she’s crying again, unbidden. Damn it. She sniffs and dabs at her eyes with the throw. He shouldn’t have to see this, but there they were. She’s always been vigilant in showing him that she was a monolith of strength. Even after her ordeal with Mendel, even after being electrocuted to the point of her heart skipping beats and she’s pretty certain it stopped several times, she’d been stoically calm. Woken up in that bed at the loft in the middle of the night with Emma curled up beside her, a hand reached out but not touching. That had been… confusing.

Anyway.

That whole image she tried to project was now shot to pieces.

He’d come padding down the stairs, barefoot, after she’d sent Emma away. He’d found her, face in hands, sobbing. Henry hadn’t said anything, just sank to his knees beside her and pressed his head against hers and held her. She’d cried in her sons lap.

It’s hard for Regina to swallow, but she can’t block out the memory of him stroking her hair.

This brings a fresh wave of tears which she ruthlessly crushes down. She is _done_ with tears. She’s done with crying. She’s done with the anguish.

* * *

 

Emma cracks an eyelid before slamming them shut, wincing. The light is too bright, like needles stabbing her corneas and the feeling of nausea overwhelms her all in one fell swoop. She groans, turning over on the uncomfortable bed. She instinctively curls her knees up towards her chest, tucking her hands between her thighs to keep them warm. One of her hands aches a little, though she can’t see why. It’s _cold._ She’s in the sheriff’s station cell, she just knows, the events of the night before an exhausting blur.

She tries her best to remember but her memory of the night before is incomplete, fuzzy - clashing with Regina, storming from her warmth, The Rabbit Hole, the enticing burn of liquor burning her throat as she threw one, two, ten shots back. Hook.

Ugh.

Emma tries to suppress her shudder at the hazy memory of rough hands and rougher lips, the scent of sweat and rum.

Regina.

Emma bites her lip, her throat burning. Disgust wars with horror wars with shame. She can’t quite believe she did what she did. She can’t quite believe Regina hasn’t flayed her alive for touching her like that. Bile and acid burn at her throat and her stomach lurches. On instinct, Emma jerks her head over the edge of the bed and vomits, straight into a waste bin.

Which Regina must have thought to put there when she sent Emma away. _God damn it._

Emma disregarded consent and essentially raped her and yet she’s still fucking caring for Emma in the small ways. Emma throws up again, feeling it burn in her nose and a thin trail leak from her nostril. _Dignified._ Emma had lost all right to dignity with her actions last night, with Hook and then with Regina.

On some level though, a stray thought streaks through her mind, on some level Regina did react to her touch. Emma shuts that train of thought down aggressively. Consent is consent and she’s always prided herself on knowing when no meant no in the bedroom. Even when sauced. No fucking excuses. Emma licks her teeth, grainy and curses the lack of toothbrush. She’ll just have to deal with the taste of acid in her mouth until she can do something about it. David hopefully will be in soon she thinks, forcing her eyes open again to the burning sunlight starting to peak in the window. She has no idea what time it is, her phone lying somewhere in The Rabbit Hole. Or David has it. She doesn’t know. At this moment, she doesn’t care about anything other than the spinning feeling in her head and the bubbling disgust in her belly. She can’t quite suppress the trembling of her limbs either. She must have tanked a lot of booze last night to be in this state.

She hears the door slam, and of all the people to come see her, she doesn’t expect her son to walk timidly into the room, his narrow shoulders tense and his jaw tenser. “Henry.” Emma groans, struggling to push herself up on the narrow cot as the world violently tilts. Her stomach growls at her.

He doesn’t greet her as he usually does, instead letting his eyes dart around the bland room, focussing on everything and nothing. He comes to stand in front of the cell, nervous, he plays with the hem of his sleeves like he does when he’s anxious.

“Henry, what’s wrong?”

He scoffs, takes a deep breath as though to talk before his mouth shuts with the click of teeth. His eyes are a little wild, and it’s alarming. She’s not seen him this… manic… since the days of operation cobra. Henry continues shuffling in front of the cell before Emma staggers off the cot and reaches through the bars for his wrist, willing him to actually look her in the eye. He flinches away.

Emma can’t help but feel the sharp kick of rejection. She settles for resting her forehead on the cool metal of the bars, her elbows propped on the horizontal metal bisecting the vertical. She’s got the mother of all headaches brewing rapidly.

Henry tries to speak several times before he takes a frustrated breath and focusses on Emma, accusation in his eyes.

“Just say it Henry, just do it.”

“Please stop destroying yourself because you are hurting _everyone,”_ he eventually spits out, his little nostrils flaring.

Emma is a little taken aback at that, her mouth falling open, an instinctive, indignant response on her tongue before she stops herself. She’s spent a lot of time avoiding being alone with Henry, guilt niggles at her, but she argues with herself – it’s best for him. It’s like a metaphorical slap to the back of her head though - she’s being a twat and forgetting that Henry is an observant young man.

His shoulders are practically shaking now, his little fists clenched. She’s never seen him so agitated.

“Now come on Hen-“

 _“_ You are hurting my mom,” he almost yells, his voice breaking.

There is a pregnant silence between them both – like all sound was absent save for a lone jagged gasp. Emma feels like she’s been punched in the stomach and it’s her son’s trembling anger, his fierce words, his ineffectual clenched fists that make her feel like someone’s got their claws around her heart and are pulling. She’s crying, not caring about the tears wet on her cheek as she forces sharp, jagged breaths.

Henry is staring at her, anger on his young face and she notes in the back of her mind that anger should never be on someone so young’s face.

“What do you know?” She’s dreading the answer, sick to her stomach at the thought of Regina telling him anything. She wouldn’t… would she? Regina is as stubborn as she is in shielding Henry from the real world. No, she wouldn’t have told Henry.

Would she?

If she was angry enough?

“I know you were over last night. And you were drunk.” His eyes flash judgementally at the last word. “And I found mom crying in the hallway. Mom never cries in front of me. Never.” His voice raises with each word, “so what did you do?” He steps closer, grabbing the bars, shouting hoarsely, “I’ve been patient. But you are hurting my mom now! So stop. Stop whatever it is. Fix it!”

Emma was silent in the face of Henry’s anger. Each statement a blow to her, a kick to the ribs and the knees until she physically fell to them, silent tears streaming down her face. “I-“

“Stop running away from everyone. They are only trying to help.”

“I can’t-“

Henry bares his teeth, crouching down and peering through the bars. “If you can’t face your family, the people who love you Emma then what are you going to do?” He was crying too. Sucking in shuddering breaths as he tried to reign himself in.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, unwilling to face her son’s disappointment and anger any longer. She can’t do this anymore.

“Emma,” he reaches through the bars and awkwardly pats at her shoulder. Emma grabs at his hand, pulling it to her face and kissing his fingers. “Just…” He cups her face, awkward. “Do something about it.”

“I-“

“I don’t care what you say right now just _do_ something Emma. Mom always says actions, not words. So do something.”

Emma can only nod numbly as her son extricates his hand from her grasp and he smiles awkwardly, wiping at his cheeks with his sleeves. “I have to get to school, I snuck out before mom could give me a lift. Please Emma, just… try.”

She sniffed pathetically, nodding again, watching her son’s retreating back.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is some more - let me know what you think :D  
> All mistakes are my own, i've done a couple of proof reads but i often miss things ^^

Emma throws back the bitter acid of cold coffee, wincing. She’s been a week without Regina, without Henry. A week since she was pretty well told by both to get her shit together.

There is something numb inside her, and she questions if she’s hit rock bottom yet…

But she’s managing to not take advantage of Regina. Not to lurk outside the school for Henry.

Managed to not succumb to her instincts to seek out the brunette, to turn up on her doorstep late at night. Ok she’s maybe walked past frequently but she has managed to talk herself out of walking up the pathway and letting her knuckles rap against white painted wood.

Emma’s minutely proud of herself for that.

She desperately ignores the fact that every bone in her body is aching for the other woman.

She’s not so proud of waking up screaming every night. She can’t remember her nightmares now, but she wakes every night sweating, heart practically beating out her chest, vague images of hands and teeth – snarls, blades, blood. Screams. The fucking usual.

Waking up with the echoes of screams in her ears.

She wakes to Snow hovering timidly outside her bedroom door, wakes up to David cradling her against his chest, his big hands pressing her against him –something firm, steady, grounding. She hates it. She wants it. But she wishes it was someone smaller, softer, someone sharper tongued but _she’s_ said no.

It almost makes Emma angry. Almost makes her seethe with resentment except – can she really justify that? Having both the love of her life and his mother shutting her down has brought her a reality check. She’s been a complete tool. Ok, a falling apart, non-responsibility taking tool, but one none the less. It comes to her one night, clutched against David, his huge hands curved to her face – just how much of an arsehole she’s been towards Henry. She’s taken advantage of Henry’s good nature, his willingness to do things for her, even if it doesn’t make him happy. It comes to her, tears streaming down her face that she’s violated Regina in every way possible. The thought makes her throat close up and her chest tight. She cries, silent streams matching on both cheeks. She’s so sick of tears. David just murmurs her name and strokes her ear with his thumb. Snow kneels in front of her, illuminated only by streetlight from outside, and strokes a strand of hair out her face.

She’s exhausted and she’s miserable (what’s new to be honest), craving things she can’t have. She keeps seeing Regina’s crumbling expression, the anguish in those brown eyes and Henry’s face all screwed up with rage and these memories are giving her strength, strength to at least give them what they need. Even if it means she’s left out in the cold. She’s being ungrateful, she knows she is. Her parents are doing everything they can but it’s not what she needs.

What she needs is a brunette with sharp eyes and that knowing look and a young boy who is every inch his mother, except when he’s every inch herself.

Emma finishes her coffee, putting the mug down with a sigh and looks out the window. There’s leaves all over the road, and she wonders when she missed the seasons changing. She sees a gaggle of nuns making their way tenaciously down the sidewalk, boxes of what looks like candles clutched to their chests. Grumpy trails after them. She snorts. At least some things never change.

“Hey Em, more?” Ruby appears with a pot of coffee. Emma nods and curls her chilled fingers around the warming mug as Ruby refills it. She slides in the booth across from Emma. “How’ve you been?”

Emma feels a sad smile tug at the side of her mouth, one corner inching up before reminding herself she’s in public. A bigger smile makes its way onto her face, flesh stretching from the unfamiliar position. She’s pretty sure she looks terrible.

“Wow, genuine,” Ruby teases, her eyes twinkling. “It’s ok, you don’t need to pretend with me,” she reaches out to rest her hand atop Emma’s just for a moment. “Sometimes we need to fall apart and that’s ok.”

Something in that statement and the non-judgmental way Ruby says it overwhelms Emma, her eyes burning for a moment, and she searches for some words for Ruby. She opens and closes her mouth several times.

Ruby pats her hand. “It’s ok, I know. And if you ever need someone to hang out with no strings attached, hit me up.”

Emma smiles a genuine smile this time, feeling her muscles move more naturally.

“There we go, much better,” Ruby winks, before getting up turning away to other customers.

Emma takes small sips of her coffee, savouring the warm liquid. She’s drinking it slower than she normally does – the last cup going cold being a freak event – she knows she’s dithering. It was time. Emma sighs. She stands, brushing herself down instinctively. Time to talk. Or something. She doesn’t know but it’s time to do something. Emma picks up her jacket and shucks it on, sweeping her hair out from the collar. She leaves money on the table and moves over to the door, lost in thought, and doesn’t hear the bell tinkle as the door opens.

“Oh!” She nearly collides with Regina, reaching out to steady her before awkwardly retracting her hands. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Regina just looks at her, swallowing nervously. “You look tired.”

“You look tired,” Emma replies, fiddling with the bottom of her jacket.

Regina nods, looking down and focussing on taking her gloves off. Emma watches each finger, pink, stretch from the cold, and represses the urge to reach out and breathe hot air onto each one. “I’m not sleeping well. Things,” Regina flashes her eyes up to meet Emma’s, “on my mind.”

“Same.” It clicks for Emma how they can be on the same wavelength but miles apart. She chews the inside of her cheek, contemplating Regina’s flushed cheeks. She really is breath-taking.

They both speak at the same time.

“Emma-“

“I’m going to see Archie today.”

“Oh,” Regina looks up again, she smiles, small and delicate. Hopeful. It terrifies Emma. “That’s good.”

“Yeah I don’t know how much good it’ll do but-“

Regina reaches out to stop Emma’s fidgeting, “It’s something, it’s a start.” Emma looks at Regina’s hand on her forearm, the longing for this woman threatening to engulf her again and she looks up, eyes glassy.

“Regina- I…”

“I know.” She withdraws her hand. It feels like someone has taken a limb. Emma swallows a few times, willing herself to calm. Regina normally was her calm. She needs to get out of here.

“I’ll… I’ll see you later,” Emma says, tight lipped, face returning to the fake grimace-smile of earlier before slipping past Regina into the cold. She rams her hands in her pockets, cursing her lack of gloves. She feels the cold easily these days. Emma makes a beeline for the door up to Archie’s office before walking right past it. She keeps going until she hits the next road before stopping and kicking at the concrete of the sidewalk. Ok… try again. Turning, she walks back and slows to a halt in front of the unassuming door.

Sure, the guy was once a leprechaun or a cricket or something but he’s the best the town has to offer.

And ok… it’s not like she’s been having much success on her own.

Emma reaches out and lets her hand hover over the door handle, touches the cold metal with her finger tips. There’s something conflicting inside her, something that is telling her to just walk away, deal with this another day. Because it’s not going to be fun. She knows. She’s got no desire to willingly go back there and Archie is going to want to _talk._

Talking isn’t fun.

_Neither is having nightmares and fucking up other people, dumbass._

She pulls her hand back a fraction before Regina’s face flashes into her mind, _it’s something, it’s a start._ Henry’s angry little face. Regina wet and panting against her. The disappointing downturn of her lips, voice raising in anger, painful tears. David’s arms. Snow’s furrowed brow. Emma’s own all-consuming self-loathing.

Emma takes a deep breath.

It’s a start. Emma puts her hand firmly on the handle and pulls the door open.

 

* * *

 

Regina stares at Emma’s hurriedly retreating back, watches the tired slope of her shoulders and slightly messy hair as she makes her way across the street to Archie’s office. She sees Emma walk right past the door and sighs, shaking her head irritably before turning to Ruby behind the till.

“Coffee to go.”

The brunette nods, her eyes flicking between Regina and the door before turning around to the coffee machine. Regina set her elbows on the counter, almost letting her face drop into her hands in exasperation before remembering where she was. She’s tired and would like nothing more to rub her eyes but she has a façade that she won’t let go of in public. Coffee it is. She stifles a yawn, her jaw tensing.

“You know, she’s trying.”

“You don’t think I know that, Miss Lucas,” Regina snaps without thinking. No one has the right to lecture her on her relationship with Emma. Not now, not ever. “Thank you for your input, but you know nothing about my relationship with Miss Swan.”

“I’m not an idiot, Regina. I could smell you on each other. Until recently.” Ruby raises her eyebrows meaningfully before placing Styrofoam cup on the counter. “On the house.”

She knows she’s not being fair by grousing at Ruby but she’s an available target and Regina is feeling prickly but before she can open her mouth again Ruby interrupts her.

“Emma is my friend, and I know you are about to say some cutting comment to me about the coffee not being worth money anyway so just accept the gesture for what it is – something for someone I don’t know… _important_ to my friend. Just go Regina before you make me want to spit on all your future orders.” Ruby smirks, her knowing eyes infuriating Regina. She snatches the cup up and stalks to the door, unable to stop herself from bringing it up to her nose and inhaling.

Her eyes catch blonde and red wandering back to the door across the road, each step slower and slower, like Emma’s walking through treacle. Regina watches her through the blinds as she stops in front of Archie’s office, watches her arm extend and hesitate.

“Miss Lucas,” Regina calls, a small smile forming on her lips as Emma finally stops procrastinating and goes through the door. “Thank you, this is very kind of you.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait, my degree has been kicking my ass.

The clock ticks quietly, persistently in the corner. Pongo emits the occasional soft snort, his bedding rustles as he twitches. There is the hypnotic patter of raindrops falling against the window. The room is kind of serene if not for Emma who has her hands clenched tightly on her lap and her knee is bouncing agitatedly, intermittently.

 “What do you need, Emma?” Archie looks at her kindly, his fingers steepled together in front of him.

“I need to be free of that place,” she looks at her hands, the nails nibbled to the quick, “I need to not go to sleep and be taken back there. I need to not want to punch people in the face when they startle me. I thought… I thought I was doing OK but I don’t think I am…” Every time she thinks this, it feels like pulling teeth, but easier somehow with each admission.

“Are you ready to talk about what happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“Take all the time you need, there is no rush.”

Emma sighs, “Except there is…”

“Will you tell me what you mean?”

“I’m… hurting. I’m hurting other people. I’m being… selfish.” Archie inclines his head, slowly, measuredly.

“Ok,” he says quietly, non-judgmentally. Emma pulls at the ends of the arms of her sweater. For all that it was chilly outside, it’s roasting in Archie’s cluttered office. Pongo lies curled up on his bed, the occasional snore issuing forth from his sleeping frame.

Emma smiles, sadly. She’s envious of a dog and its simple life.

“Who are you hurting, Emma?”

“My family.” The answer slips easily from her lips.

He nods, “and can you tell me how you are hurting them?”

Emma’s breath hitches as she gets some images scrolling through her head of Henry’s face flushed with anger, his eyes filled with reproach, Regina’s panicked eyes, the press of Snow’s palm to her stinging cheek. “I’m lashing out, I’m hurting them… I can’t…” She leans forward, her hands curling into fists. Her knuckles go white, a slow, long, exhale… “I’m lashing out at them, and they don’t deserve it. I’ve been through hell, but I’m putting them through it too now. And Regina…” Emma chews furiously on her bottom lip. “I don’t think I can talk about her yet.”

“Ok,” Archie nods again, letting his hands clasp on his lap. “Can we talk about what happened on the island?”

Pongo suddenly unfurls his tall frame, his spine dipping as the dog stretches and yawns. Emma watches, momentarily distracted as the dog pads over to her and sits beside her legs, his chin coming to rest on her lap. She looks at the deep soulful eyes of the Dalmatian and reaches forward to smooth down a velvet ear. Henry. Regina. Angry eyes. Sad eyes.

“Yeah, I think I can do some of that… or at least, I will try.” It’s the least she can do.

“Take your time, Emma. Today, just try for the basics, just give me an idea of what happened over there.”

Emma takes a deep breath. “Ok, so… we were on the island… and we were running for our lives.”

 

* * *

 

David skims his fingers around the inside of the pan, feeling for any changes in texture. None, excellent, he’s done a good job in scrubbing the pot. A small moment of feeling pleased. He smiles to himself, taking pleasure in the silly small things that make you smile in life. Small, stupid things that make the day to day grind worthwhile. He is amused, momentarily, that someone like him, someone who was a prince in another world, someone who literally chased monsters and thrills can appreciate something so _mundane._

The door creaks open – _he really should get some wd40 on those hinges –_ and Emma trudges in.

“Tea?” he calls, trying to be welcoming, trying to be warm.

Emma hums her assent, shoulders slumped and her entire being radiating lethargy as David flips his towel over his shoulder. He grabs the kettle and refills it. Snow will be home soon. Emma sighs and hangs her jacket on the back of a bar stool. He turns and starts drying the cutlery he just washed.

“How’s your day been,” Emma sighs, interested and slightly wary, perhaps.

David contemplates his answers as he dries and slips forks, knives back into their spaces. _Rubbish, I’m so tired I almost fell asleep in the shower this morning. Trying, I thought about a nap on the sofa_. “Good. The apartment needed a bit of a clean so I’ve been doing that.”

Emma smiles wanly. “You are quite the domestic goddess.” Her tone is flat, tired. Ok.

“Well I am a modern man,” David smirks, bumping the cutlery drawer shut with his hip.

“I went to see Archie,” Emma spits out, no preamble and David is caught on the back foot for a moment. He wants to yelp for joy or _something_ – something other than not reacting but somewhere deep down he knows that pomp and ceremony will not be appreciated by Emma. She’s never really appreciated that kind of thing. He is _trying._

“Great, how’d it go?”

Emma slumps onto a bar stool, her arms crossing, leaning against the surface. She grunts non-committally. “I’m so tired.”

David can only hum his assent, turning back to the kettle as it whistles. He grabs two large floral mugs. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Sorry David,” Emma lets out a little huff of breath. “I’m kind of all talked out to be honest.”

“That’s ok, Emma,” he smiles at his daughter, placing a mug in front of her. She lets her head fall onto her arms, releasing a long breath. She looks exhausted, David thinks. He thinks of sleepless nights and Emma crying out, of Snow and him blearily making their way to her. He busies himself making coffee, strong. Emma drinks the stuff like it’s water. He gives her a cup, black, very full. Emma moans her gratitude, reaching out to touch his hand braced on the surface as he pours. He marvels at her pale hand touching his weathered skin. Marvels at the free expression of affection.

Emma takes a loud slurp and lets her head sink back down to rest on her arm.

“My life sucks.”

David huffs out a breath of amusement. “If you say so Emma.”

“I got a puncture in one of my tyres, Henry is pissed at me,” _so is Regina_ , “and I’ve lost so much weight my jeans keep slipping.” She pouts.

He tries not to smile at the childlike frustration on Emma’s face. It’s refreshing for somewhat light-hearted things to come up for once, not the black cloud of anxiety that normally accompanies Emma wherever she goes.

“You should have a nap if you are beat,” he says, before wondering if that is a bad idea or not. Emma and sleep didn’t really mix… She yawns and tilts her head to the side, contemplatively. Maybe they are moving out of that stage? Would speaking to Archie work that quickly? Would it fix things? He shook his head, trying to not think of Emma as a problem to fix.

“Mmm,” she nods, “that might be a good idea. My head hurts.”

David is on it before she can do anything, dipping slickly into the drawer and handing her some Advil. “Don’t say that I’m not a prepared parent.” Really, he just has some stashed for when he wakes up after too much beer with Snow. David hates hangovers with a passion, unable to tolerate this world’s alcohol as much as he could in the enchanted forest, but any kind of pain he sees in Emma he feels like it’s his own. “Have you seen Regina recently?” He ventures, thinking of the night before where he’d stood over her bed, still as a statue but listening intently to her gentle whimpers. She’d been murmuring the darker woman’s name, over and over, her face twitching, fist clenching. Before screaming Regina’s name and waking herself up. He’d been in the bed touching her face, rubbing her arm, holding her hand before she could draw breath.

Emma shakes her head. “Well, I saw her briefly this morning before Archie. She seems fine.” David suppresses the urge to narrow his eyes at her tone. He knows things between Emma and Regina are… complex. He knows they mean a great deal to each other. Snow might be oblivious and maybe he should talk about that sometime but he’s more focussed on Emma. He should focus on Snow maybe, soon. He thinks about pulling Emma out of her car where she’d been drunkenly fumbling with the keys a week ago, it was sheer luck that had him come across her otherwise she’d have ended up wrapped around a lamppost or halfway through a wall. Sheer luck. A shiver goes down his spine. The thought of her damaging herself in such a reckless way after everything makes him feel sick.

He’s not sure what happened that night, but he just knew instinctively to take her to Regina, even before Emma was telling him to. Regina. He’s seen those dark eyes not leave his daughter when they were in each other’s orbit. And it is like gravity, he muses. They do seem to find one another. His mind flashes back to the steadfast eyes of his daughter as she stared him and Snow down. “She’s not dying.” He remembers the warm bloom of pride in his chest. Maybe some confusion too but mainly he marvelled at the protection she offered their nemesis. Heroic, really. Then he remembers her screaming for Regina before pushing her out of the path of the wraith.

There’s always been something _more_ there between them both.

“David?”

He blinks himself back to the present, his introspection making him not register Emma’s tired words. He hums, “sorry, I was miles away there for a moment.”

“I’m gonna take a nap I think.” Emma sets down her empty mug, her finger running thoughtfully along the rim. “Thank you.”

He nods, what else can he say really? “Hope you have a good sleep, I’ll keep the volume down.”

“I…” He watches attentively as Emma drums her fingertips on the surface. “Thank you for… everything. I am trying to get better. I- I _want_ to get better.” She won’t look up from the staccato beat of her fingers. He’s willing her to just talk. Anything. He wants to know everything even though it will hurt, even though it will make him distressed and angry.

“Thank you.” Emma finally looks up at him with wet eyes. He’s in front of her in a moment, arms twitching, hesitant. She slides off the chair and presses into him, her cheek pressing to his shoulder. “Thank you,” she repeats, her voice tight. She sniffs. David wraps his arms around her slowly, gently. His hand goes to the back of her head. “Thank you for just being ok with me.”

David hums, shushing her. “It’s going to be ok Emma, I know it.”

“How can you though? How can you be so _positive?.”_ He’s pretty sure there is going to be a wet stain on his shirt but who cares. Emma shudders, a quiet, wet gasp, her arms squeezing tightly around his back. Her hands grip the back of his shirt.

“Because you are my daughter, and you can do anything.” Cheesy but it’s true.

Emma chokes out a small laugh. “Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence I guess.” She starts to pull away, wiping at her eyes.

David moves to cup her cheeks, smiling at her. “No matter how long it takes, I am here for you. No matter what you need, Emma. OK? Do you understand me?

She’s silent for a long time, staring up at him before she nods and whispers “thank you.”

He feels the swell of emotion in his throat, and clears it. He needs to be the rock here. “Any time, Emma. I am here.” Emma nods, and gestures to the stairs.

“I’m gonna go up now, thanks for the coffee,” she says, as she walks backwards towards the stairs, a small smile on her face.

David grins at her, his muscles burn. Smiling feels good, but strange.

Maybe things will start to get better now. He can only hope, and be there for everyone.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes are my own  
> Thank you for sticking with the story this far :)

Emma’s glad she came out, for once enjoying the loud music of the bar, the sharp tang of alcohol and sweat that cloaks everything. She takes a swig of her beer, relishing the cool liquid sliding down her throat. She feels a little buzzed, a little relaxed. It was a relief after weeks of never ending tension.

Ruby laughs as she falls into the seat across from her, narrowly avoiding spilling her cocktail. She sets another bottle down in front of Emma. “I figured you might want another Ems,” she smiled, before taking a sip of the vibrant liquid in her glass. “Sex on the beach, woo hoo!”

Emma can’t help but smile at the enthusiasm her friend exudes. She was glad she said yes when Ruby asked the other day, “you should totally come out” she’d piped up at Granny’s and Emma had found herself agreeing, finally. The smile on Ruby’s face had been worth it to be honest.

And here they were, Emma was out. Socialising. Not flinching at every little thing. Progress.

Archie’s sessions have been intense… Reliving things willingly and not being pushed into the unpleasant memories. She’s been to a few now, and though she’s just skimming the surface of things, she feels a tad more settled. Archie isn’t pushing her, and maybe she is taking advantage of that to sit somewhere with someone who isn’t going to push or judge her, but it is helping her somehow.

She’s walked past Regina a few times in Granny’s, her sitting in a booth with Henry. She feels the dark eyes burning a hole in the back of her head as she orders coffee and bear claws for work. Feels Henry’s tense stare, has noticed his head swinging back and forth between her and his mother. She has thought about approaching them a couple of times, the thought of small talk kind of scares her though. Small steps she supposes. Henry hasn’t looked at her with the same anger she remembers, and that is some solace. Regina has that dark interminable gaze every time she meets her eyes. It’s… something. It sends a shiver up her spine.

And she misses them both terribly, but she feels it’s her penance to spend time away from them both. To pay for what she’s done.

“I’m so glad you are here, Em. I’ve missed you.” Ruby smiles over the lip of her glass before toasting Emma. She leans forward and clinks glass with glass, and winks. “To the future and to the dancing!”

Emma laughs, “I don’t know if I’m up for the dance floor just yet Rubes, it’s a bit,” she turns her head to look at the empty floor, “It’s a bit jam packed don’t you think?” She turns back to her friend with a smirk.

“Hilarious, Em. Just you wait I will have it heaving by the end of the night. No one can resist Ruby when she’s rustling up dance partners!”

Emma hums with amusement. It feels good to just have a drink and laugh with her friend. Everything has been so _serious._ She finishes her beer and swiftly picks up the next.

She’s hesitant about getting up to dance, thinking of a crush of bodies, but she’s willing to try at least. Maybe stay on the outskirts… that is if Ruby manages to get anyone up to dance with them. It’s the Rabbit Hole and it’s during the week, so it’s unlikely.

They talk about everything and nothing, keeping away from the elephant that’s eternally in the room for Emma, laughing at jokes, doing impressions. It’s silly and frivolous and it just feels so good.

“Come dance with me!” Emma can’t say no before Ruby grabs her wrist and pulls her to the empty dance floor. The music isn’t even that loud and she feels a bit ridiculous, but Ruby waves her arms enthusiastically and makes her laugh at her antics. Ruby takes the attention of anyone looking, allowing Emma to just move to the beat. She lets her head dip, savouring the music, lets her hips settle into some kind of rhythm. She’s never been one for any kind of dancing other than grinding with a partner, some kind of foreplay. Her mind wanders to what it would be like to dance with Regina – sweaty skin and heat between them as Regina presses behind her, hands on her hips, smoothing up her waist and moving to the front – Emma shakes her head. Bad idea. It has made her loosen up though, and she catches Ruby’s hand, twirling her friend.

It’s distracting, dancing with Ruby. She’s smiling, and laughing, attempting to copy the other woman as she makes outrageous moves, not caring that it’s just them both.

It’s distracting enough that she doesn’t notice Hook sliding up beside them until his hands grab at her waist and he presses in behind her.

“Hey love,” he breathes in her ear and Emma feels herself start to splinter before she throws herself away from him, tripping. Ruby grabs her and glares at the pirate. The world closes to just them.

“What are you- Get lost Hook!” Ruby snarls and steps in front of Emma, baring her teeth. Emma finds her hand tightly held in Ruby’s, and frowns at the pirate over her friends shoulder.

“Come on, girls. We can drink a little,” he grins, that sickening leer, “have ourselves a little party.” Emma can’t help her eyes following his ring clad hand as it trails down to his crotch. She feels bile rising at the back of her throat and snaps her eyes back up before the hand reaches its destination

“Fuck off Hook, I want you to stay away from me.” She’s glad her voice is strong, isn’t wavering like her insides are.

“I was good enough for you the other night,” he says slowly, coldly.

“Yeah,” she swallows, disgust and loathing at herself rising. She remembers that evening and it’s all bad, remembers fumbling with him in the alley, his fingers pressing too hard and his harsh breath in her ear. It was an itch she wanted to scratch and he was just… there. And she had been about 2 tequila shots from passing out in the bathroom. She’s made many bad decisions with men and alcohol but Hook is by far the one that makes her feel most dirty. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” she spits.

Hooks face morphs into anger and he grits his teeth. “Come on, Swan,” he growls.

“Hey asshole,” Ruby steps forward, pushing his shoulder. “She says she isn’t interested, back off.”

Hook waves a hand between them, his hook hovering off to the side. Emma catches the glint of metal, her throat starting to close up. She feels the panic starting to prickle at the base of her spine and her hands are going clammy.

“Swan, is this about the Queen?” You know she’s never going to open her legs-“

“Fuck off Hook!” Emma roars, her rising panic forgotten. All there is now is righteous anger. She slips under Ruby’s arm and is in his face in a second. “Don’t you fucking talk about her like that – don’t you fucking dare.”

Hook raises his eyebrows, “Oh I see how it is.” He grins sickeningly. “Love sick puppy Emma Swan pining for her majesty. You should let me fuck you again, I’ll take your mind off-“

Emma felt more than saw herself hit him. She felt the impact reverberate up her arm. She felt Ruby grab her from behind, pull her away. She saw Hook fall to the floor with murder in his eyes, blood staining his teeth. “

“No fighting, get out!” The barman is pointing at the door and glaring at Emma.

“We were leaving anyway, this place sucks,” Ruby shouts over her shoulder, tugging Emma back to the booth and grabbing their stuff. Emma lets her, lets her put her jacket in her arms and lets her leave her by the door as she storms over to the man on the floor. Ruby crouches down by him, in his face and Emma can see her baring her teeth, spitting words at the furious pirate.

“Let’s get outta dodge, Ems,” Ruby comes back and blows past her, keeping the door open for the blonde to follow, and Emma does. She follows her friend in a bit of a daze, noting the cold bite of the air and the moon in the sky. Ruby loops her arm through Emma’s and they walk together down the road. Emma’s taking deep gulping breaths of the cool night’s air, letting it steal her breath.

Emma watches her feet move one foot in front of another as they walk, finding it almost hypnotising. They walk to Ruby’s flat, a small affair, but dry and warm and comfy. Ruby had left Granny’s in favour of privacy, even if it was tiny. She proudly pronounces it _hers_. She pulls Emma in through the narrow doorway and deposits her in the living room before disappearing into her kitchen.

Emma shrugged her jacket off, delighting in the messy comfort of Ruby’s décor. Whilst the loft was home, it was light and almost too shabby chic to take seriously. Ruby’s living room was a riot of colour. An assault to the senses but in a welcoming way. The sofa was covered in the most garish crocheted throw, with a mismatching set of cushions. There were magazines, photos on the walls, various artefacts of Ruby’s _life_ scattered around and Emma relaxes into the battered sofa, toeing her boots off and drawing her feet up onto the cushions.

Ruby breezes back into the room, dropping another chilled beer on the coffee table in front of Emma, squeezed between the sofa and the TV. She drops herself onto the worn armchair in the corner and sighs.

“So what _is_ going on with you and Regina?”

 Emma almost rolls her eyes. She picks at the label, taking strange satisfaction in peeling it back.

“That’s a sign of sexual frustration,” Ruby quips. Emma stops, smoothing the label back down and glares at her friend.

“Regina and i…” Emma starts before taking a long drink from the bottle.

“Regina and you…” Ruby smirks before taking a drink from her own. “Go on,” she prompts and sticks her tongue out at Emma.

“What did you say to Hook, back there?” Emma changes the subject, curious.

Ruby grins, her teeth flashing unnaturally white. “I told him if he touched you again I’d kill him.”

Emma lets out a bark of disbelieving laughter, looking at her friend. “You can’t be serious.”

“Wolf, Em, remember? I’m capable of many things. I’ve had to deal with enough pushy, shitty men in my life I won’t stand for it anymore. And I know what he’s like. And he knows what _I’m_ like, more to the point.”

Emma lets that sink in, the warmth she feels for Ruby intensifying. She’s got people on her side, she knows, but seeing them fight for her is affirming. “How did you know I didn’t want him around? You told him to go away before I said anything.”

Ruby tapped her nose, swinging her legs over the arm of the chair. “Em, wolf! Keep up! Aside from the fact you catapulted away from him faster than Regina can lay down a scathing remark, I can smell fear. I can smell people’s emotions quite often.”

“That’s… weird,” Emma grins slyly at her friend who just shrugged.

“It’s just the way I’ve been for a long time. I don’t find it weird. It’s more… annoying. Especially when I can smell and hear what’s going on but no one talks about it. Like the fact that every time you and Regina are near each other you’re both either turned on or anxious and not in a scared way. Regina, you. Go.” Ruby pointedly looked at Emma before taking another sip of her beer.

“Ruby,” Emma can’t help but whine. She feels awkward talking about Regina, because the subject of Regina and her is… awkward. It’s one of those things she knows her parents know about, she knows now Henry knows _things_ … “Regina and I are… complicated.”

“And I got time, and we are off tomorrow so shoot,” Ruby continues smoothly, settling back.

“Well, we’ve done… _stuff._ ” Emma knows she’s blushing. Ruby snorts.

“Ok, Em, you’re not twelve. Spill.”

“Well, there’s been something between us since…” Emma looks up at the ceiling, knowing the answer, and smiling when Ruby provides it.

“Since like, _forever_.”

“Yeah, ok, since forever.” Emma sighs, thinking with amusement back on all the times she and

Regina would snipe at each other from inches away. Yes she’d spent months horrendously attracted to the Mayor, unable to think of anything other than kissing that damned smirk off those lips. And then somewhere along the way, it had stopped being purely lust. “There’s just always been this draw.”

Ruby nods sagely and motions for her to continue.

“I dunno,” Emma sighs, “The island.” Ruby’s eyes widening doesn’t go unnoticed but she’s committed to sharing this small piece of herself with her friend. “Things just intensified. We were both so stripped of… everything. And the bastards threatened her.” Emma realises her fist is white around the bottle and she consciously loosens her grip. “I had to fight to keep her safe.”

“Em,” Ruby breathes, but Emma continues looking at her bottle. The protective feelings well up inside her again.

“Someone has to keep her safe, because so many wish her harm. And she’s _changed_.” She raises her eyes to meet Ruby’s and is gratified to see Ruby nod in agreement. “She looked after me. And after everything. I just.” Emma knows she’s trailing off, and she knows her other hand has clenched into a fist, shaking. “She’s important, you know? And for Hook to disrespect her, I would probably kill him if I had the chance.” She feels the truth of the words in her chest.

“Hey no killing, that’s my job. I ate my boyfriend. I threatened King George, I’ve had him crying for mercy. I’m quite capable of taking down people for my friends.”

Emma laughs again, the deep moment broken, and she takes another drink. Her head is going to hurt in the morning. The way Ruby is looking at her right now though, a small glow of understanding, makes her breathe a little easier.

“Em, you ever need anything, tell me ok? I’m here for you. I’m even here for Regina, because she is important to you. I think you have a lot of good people here _for_ you. But I don’t think you realize it sometimes.”

Emma nods, she knows she’s got a good friend in Ruby, but she’s reaching the limit of how much she can talk about things, and changes the subject. Ruby lets her.

She feels like something has loosened in her chest. Maybe things are starting to heal.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, thanks so much for bearing with me. This story is the longest i've ever written (and i realize it's taking me a long time), and i'm extremely proud of it, so let me know what you think.

It’s a beautiful night, the kind where you just want it to go on and on and it seems to last forever. The kind where the moon was off lazily to one side and the sky was clear. In dark corners, the stars twinkled. But you can’t really see any of that under the warm lights of the festival.

It’s the annual miner’s fayre, candles everywhere, people fed up of Grumpy and Snow turning up at their doors as usual, and the town has turned out strongly in the streets. Throngs of people populate the street between the buildings, milling about, sitting on the hay bales (where did they get those?), sipping on warmed cider from various vendors.

Emma winces as some kids run past, brushing her elbow, and she takes a deep, steadying breath. She can do this.

“I’m glad to see you Emma,” Henry turns to her, with an ice cream in each hand. Since when was he buying them ice cream? She was supposed to be the one treating him. She’s glad he’s somehow moved past the anger he held for her at the station, greedily drinking up his presence.

There’s a slight lump at the back of her throat already.

She forces it away and forces herself to smile at her son, “Me too.” She means it even if it is short and to the point. “Where did you get the money for ice cream?” She swipes her tongue against the side of the minty confection, and she lifts an eyebrow at the boy.

He shies and shrugs and mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “mom,” and “wanted to treat you,” and Emma doesn’t have the heart to question him further. She’s still not used to having _people_. People that put her first and want to do the little things like buy her ice cream.

Maybe she’s had the kind of life where she will never get used to it… but maybe, she thinks, maybe that will make sure she never takes it for granted.

“So how’s school?”

“Fine,” Henry shrugs and looks up at her slyly, warily, “How are _you?_ ”

Of course it was going to come up. Ok. “Well, I’m seeing Archie, as you probably know.”

Henry nods, lifting his cone to catch a rivulet of pink/red liquid sneaking its way down to his fingers with his tongue.

“Is it working?” He eyes her.

Emma thinks of entire appointments spent playing with Pongo and talking of everything and nothing with Archie… she thinks of digging her fingernails into her palms so hard she leaves indents.

She thinks of his warm eyes on her as she talks haltingly and sparingly about fighting to protect Regina and that she doesn’t regret that.

“It’s a work in progress, but it’s going in the right direction.”

Henry nods to himself, and scoffs the rest of his cone. She’s barely touched hers.

“Ma,” Emma gets that lump in her throat again. “Eat your ice cream before it melts.”

She lets out a laugh-exhale, and proceeds to have some more, savouring the sticky sweetness.

Some more kids run past, and Emma jumps again, cursing. She takes a deep breath, steadying her pulse. She can feel her heart beating wildly in her chest.

She realises she’s crushed the cone, her hand cold and sticky.

Henry grabs her other hand, entwining his still small fingers with her longer ones and he strokes her knuckles with a thumb. “Ma!” He calls, and Emma stares after the kids laughing as they run through the crowd, not really reacting.

“Ma!” He tries again and Emma snaps her eyes down to meet his. “It’s ok. It’s ok. It was an accident.”

Emma swallows, nodding, trying to agree with him but there is that rising wave of panic building in her belly.

“Ma, it’s ok,” he repeats, and reaches up to touch her cheek. She’s not sure why, but she doesn’t rear back. She knows her son means no harm. It’s _Henry._ “Come with me, let’s go over here.” He guides her to the side of the street and sit’s her down on a step. He drops down beside her, never losing hold of her hand

Henry seeks eye contact with her again, saying over and over, “It’s ok,” and Emma starts to feel herself calm down. She feels a bit sheepish. Her barely teen son had to deal with that.

“I’m ok, Henry.” She crosses her arms on her knees and rests her head on them, staring blankly at the concrete of the sidewalk between her boots. Emma concentrates on her breathing, trying some exercises Archie had taught her. It’s working, slowly. She can feel Henry pressed in to her side, his hand resting on her thigh.

The sound of heels approaches, over the din of the crowd and Emma raises her head.

“What’s going on?” Regina’s voice floats down and Emma rakes her eyes up her frame, taking in the stocking encased ankles, calves, the black pencil skirt peeking out under the heavier fabric of Regina’s coat. She feels her heart skip a beat.

Henry leaves her side, the warmth vanishing, and he hugs his Mom, pressing his face into her jacket and letting her cup his head with her gloved hand.

“Emma,” she says quietly, warily, meeting Emma’s eyes, “Everything alright?”

Emma sit’s up straighter, uncrossing her arms. “Yeah, it’s ok.”

Regina reaches into her pocket and produces a tissue.

“For your hand,” she holds it out to Emma who remembers her hand.

“Thanks,” she takes it and starts methodically wiping melted ice cream off her palm before shrugging and sticking one of her fingers in her mouth to clean it. She can almost feel Regina’s eye roll.

“You eat like a child.”

“Yeah yeah,” Emma replies, running her tongue between her fingers, eyes flicking up to meet Regina’s for a moment. Regina’s cheeks colour and she turns her head as Henry calls out to someone.

“Oh!” Henry pipes up, “Grace…” his excitement trails off for a moment as he eyes his mothers.

“Off you go Henry, I’ll stay with Emma,” Regina catches his attention and moves over to the step, gathering her coat around her. She sits daintily down next to Emma on the step, only a few inches between them. Emma can feel the heat radiating off of Regina, and it’s taking all her strength and stubbornness to not just… lean.

They both watch Henry run off to meet his friend, his hands snaking into his pockets when Grace smiles at him.

“He’s like you, you know, he puts his hands in his pockets when he’s nervous around people he likes.”

Emma snorts, and tries to come up with a statement to disprove that but she fails. Utterly. She finishes cleaning her hand and stuffs the tissues into her jacket. They fall back into silence, watching the people of Storybrooke mill about. People are happy, this silly little festival bringing more joy to them than any would really admit.

The occasional curious gaze wanders their way, looking at The Savior and the Mayor sitting side by side on a doorstep, but they quickly wander away, as though they’ve been caught staring at something private.

Emma lets her mind wander too, abstractedly. She lets herself breathe deeply, lets herself soak in the energy of the crowd, and of the woman sitting next to her. She soaks in the simple act of _being_.

Her mind eventually wanders to Regina, and her heart tugs as she realises how much she misses her. She misses sleeping with her, misses the simple intimacy. She misses the scent of her. Her snark, her eyes that leave her whole face open even when she’s trying desperately to be impassive. She misses her heat. She misses kissing Regina. Emma realises she’s closed the space between them and her head is resting on Regina’s shoulder.

The other woman hasn’t moved, hasn’t pushed her off.

Emma breathes out a deep breath of satisfaction. “I’m trying.”

“We… _I_ know”

“I’m trying to fix myself.”

“I know.”

“I miss you.”

“I… I know,” Regina says, softer, and she shifts, pressing a kiss to Emma’s hair. “I miss you too,” she takes a deep breath, the sound of air being sucked harshly in past teeth reaching Emma’s ears. “That _doesn’t_ mean-“

“I know, Regina,” Emma breathes out. She nods her head slightly against Regina’s shoulder, happy that they are at least talking to one another. She’s torn between feeling relaxed and having energetic butterflies in her stomach. “I **know** ,” she repeats. “I’m just… I’m just happy you’re here.”

They fall quiet again. Ruby wanders past, with a fond look and a wave, but doesn’t come over. Emma is surprised when Regina shifts slightly and gives a brief wave back.

“Ruby took me out the other night,” Emma starts slowly, wincing internally as she remembers waking up with the mother of all hangovers in Ruby’s bed, the brunette snoring her head off. “Hook… _happened_ ,” she feels Regina tense, “and I told him where to go. And I hit him.”

“You’ve been making a habit of that. I approve.”

“And Ruby, she… Well she helped.”

She catches Regina’s muttered “I wish she tore him limb from limb” and snorts at the look of disgust on her face.

“Yeah, she told him that she would if he came anywhere near me again…”

She lets that sentence linger between them, sorting out her thoughts, her words. Emma’s never been very good at the words but she needs to get these out.

“I’m slowly coming to realize that I have _people_ , Regina. And it’s something I’ve never had before. I’ve never needed them before. You pointing out in Neverland that I have parents and people fighting over me was the first time I really thought about that”

Regina hums, noncommittedly, apparently content to let Emma just talk. She shifts as Emma sits up and turns to face her.

“I’m just… broken right now, and it’s taking me a while to get my shit together. And I’ve hurt a lot of people because I’ve been too shit scared to do anything about being broken. I’m _sorry_ for what I did.” Emma wills Regina to see how sorry she is. She keeps eye contact with the other woman whilst continuing. “I don’t think I could ever apologise enough, but it won’t stop me from trying. I… I violated you, and your trust, and just… everything. And I’m _so_ sorry – god, I just…” Emma shakes her head, forcing back tears that she can feel rising. She needs to not cry, because this isn’t about her, this is about her doing something unforgivable to Regina, who didn’t fucking deserve any of it.

Regina worries at her lower lip as Emma pulls herself together.

“So, I hope that one day, you can forgive me. Because you are so important to me and-“ Emma catches the three words that threaten to catapult themselves out her mouth. It’s not the time for things like that because that’s pressure and unfair and also something that scares the crap out of her. But she feels stronger for the words she’s been saying, feels like a door has been opened, and takes a breath before continuing. “I will _always_ be there for you if you need me, even though I’ve broken something precious between us. Because there _was_ something precious between us, back there, and even before it.

“There’s always been _something_ ,” she says, giving voice to the energy that’s existed between them since the moment Regina asked if she was Henry’s birth mother. She remembers that moment clearly. “I understand if you can’t though. And I will accept that.” The thought terrifies Emma but she has no right to think otherwise. She runs out of steam, and feels her body sag a little, now that she’s done. The world has become just them, sitting on the step, knees touching.

Regina’s hand wanders over to rest atop Emma’s fist, now clenched on top of her knee.

“You are not broken Emma.” Regina’s fierce gaze meets Emma’s. “Maybe battered, but not, _never_ broken. I don’t know when or if I will be able to forgive you for that night because…” Regina breaks off, a look of anguish flitting over her features that makes Emma’s heart break a little. “But don’t be a stranger anymore, ok?” Emma can’t tear her eyes away from Regina’s until she blinks and the other woman stands and is gone, lost in the press of bodies and noise.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for sticking with me :D  
> Things are starting to look up. Or are they???? ^^

“How do you think things are going, Emma?”

Emma takes a moment to stare out the window behind Archie. She stares at the wisps of cloud passing, the only thing marring the perfect blue sky. Unusual for Maine, really.

She wonders at the intricacies of the curse Regina put together, in creating Storybrooke. She wonders at Regina.

“Emma?” Archie prompts her again and she starts. She’d been staring for a while apparently. It was easy to zoom off into daydreaming these days. And she didn’t jump as badly as she used to when brought back to the present.

Emma clears her throat. “Well, I think… progress… is being made?” She lets the words trail into a mild question and squints at Archie. “I’ve been going out. Having _fun._ ” Emma is never going to be the willing-spill-their-soul type so her words are slow and halting.

“Are you still having nightmares?”

Emma answers without hesitation. “Every night.” Every night she wakes up with screams in the back of her throat and her heart trying to claw it’s way out her chest.

“And have you found anything that helps you sleep better?” Archie looks at her levelly and Emma avoids eye contact.

“Well there is something.” She stops to fiddle with her fingers and looks out the window again.

“Something?” Archie prompts, patiently.

“Well,” Emma clears her throat. “More of a… some _one_.” Her voice drops to a whisper.

Archie leans forward, nodding. “Ok. So there is a solution to this particular problem?”

Emma shakes her head immediately. “No, i… we…” Her frustration bubbles up and she sighs. “It’s complicated… And I can’t just. No. It’s not an option at the moment.”

The doctor ponders this for a moment, clasping his hands in front of himself, elbows resting on his knees. “Something happened.” It’s not a question. It’s not really a statement either. She’s ripped the band-aid off with Regina but Emma’s head drops towards her sternum as the enormity of her guilt settles on her shoulders and slides down into her chest.

Pongo uncurls himself and moves to nose Emma’s knee, she pets him distractedly.

“I can see that something happened that is distressing you.” Emma snorts, eyes flicking up to meet his briefly.

“Understatement of the goddamn century, Archie.”

The man smiles.

“Something non Neverland related.”

Emma smiles, sadly. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Do you want to talk about it.”

Emma opens her mouth, determined to say something but the words catch. “I…”

“Take your time. We have time.”

She twiddles her fingers and pets Pongo. Shame and disgust wash over her in equal amounts and every time she opens her mouth to just blurt out things she feels bile rising in her throat. The clock is ticking, and every click of the hand ratchets up the tension in her body. Every tick, reminiscent of a stick hitting her skin, every tock, a dirty boot to her stomach.

"Emma,” she flinches as Archie’s hand lands on hers. “Deep breaths. You are safe here.”

Swallowing, Emma fiercely keeps eye contact with Archie and focusses on the rising and falling of her chest, imagining her diaphragm moving to keep her lungs expanding.

“I sexually assaulted Regina,” she breathes, not taking her eyes off his. “I raped Regina. She said no. I didn’t listen.”

Archie doesn’t say anything, he just maintains eye contact, and watches as Emma deflates, crumbles. He keeps his hand on hers, pushing Pongo’s inquisitive nose away with the other.

“Ok.”

Emma looks for judgement and finds nothing but pain in the tightening of the skin around his eyes. Compassion.

“Ok,” he repeats delicately. “Let’s talk about that.”

So they do, and Emma’s voice cracks and she crumples in on herself and sobs. And Archie listens, and offers no judgement, and no advice and no assuagement of guilt until she cannot talk or cry any longer.

Emma says thank you, quietly, clasping his hand. She ruffles Pongo’s ear, and steps out into the clear air of the night.

She’s by no means rid herself of guilt, disgust… anything. But she’s allowed herself to cry and confront everything that horrifies and somehow… the pressure lessens a little more inside. Emma knows she will be the last person to forgive herself, but for a moment, for a hopeful moment, she feels like she might be able to one day.

 

* * *

 

Granny’s isn’t busy today, and Snow is taking a time out, seated by the window, just watching the world go by. She spies Emma’s blonde hair, the red jacket, and watches her daughter striding down the street.

Snow takes a sip of her tea, savouring the flavour, and sets the cup down on delicate china. She tilts her head to one side, trailing a finger over her lips, and taps them thoughtfully.

She’s got an idea of something forming in her head about Emma, and she’s not sure what. It’s a… _feeling_ … that she can’t excise, and she can’t get fully formed in her head. Emma is a bit of a mystery to her. She wants so badly to have the same relationship Mary Margaret had with Emma, but… her daughter is resistant. And there is the fact that Snow is just _not_ her meek cursed-counterpart.

It upsets her, but Snow is pragmatic, and knows there is no point in dwelling over things that have happened. She looks to the future. She looks to Emma’s future, and, reaching down to run a hand over her abdomen, her future.

She looks back out the window at Emma, who’s stopped to talk to Ruby. Snow leans forward in interest. Emma has her hands in her pockets and is smiling.

She doesn’t smile like that for Snow.

It hurts, a little.

But her daughter is smiling, actually looking somewhat carefree right now, so she reminds herself of what is important.

She watches the two brunettes talk animatedly, watches them both laugh and gesticulate wildly. It’s the most life Emma has had about her since… Since Neverland.

Emma has been so jagged and shattered since she came back. She’s been a different Emma. A broken Emma.

Not broken, just, _hurting_ , she hears David’s voice scold in her head. Her beloved has a different relationship with Emma, an easier one. Once not constrained by the same tensions as _mother and daughter_ …

Ruby now has her hand on Emma’s shoulder, and it moves up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, patting her cheek like one would pat a dog. Emma laughs and bats her hand away.

Snow frowns. Surely…

Surely not. Ruby would have said something. Was she dating her daughter? She observed the two women talking, trying to study their body language with the eye of a hunter, someone used to reading the land, and people and animals. And there was… something.

Ruby initiates a hug with Emma and Snows eyebrows shoot up.

She purses her lips, and picks up her tea to sip at as her eyes track Emma walking away and Ruby coming to the diner to start her shift. She keeps her face impassive, debating whether to say something or not as the young woman enters the building, shaking off her leather jacket.

However, Snow was never very good at keeping her mouth shut anyway.

“Are you dating my daughter?”

Ruby almost trips as she hears Snow’s question, and turns, her mouth wide open in surprise.

“What?” she chokes out, eyebrows almost lifting right off her forehead.

“Are you dating my daughter?” Snow asks coolly, her best poker face on. It’s not a problem if they are. She just wishes someone had said something to her. She hates feeling left out. Especially by her best friend.

Ruby cants her hips to one side and crosses her arms, jacket still dangling from one hand. “Would it be a problem if we were?” She asks, her own face a mask of indifference.

They regard each other, both predators in their own rights, a throwback to who they were in the enchanted forest before Ruby snorts.

“No Snow, I am not dating your daughter, you ass.”

Snow raises an eyebrow at the light insult.

Ruby laughs. “We _did_ wake up in bed together the other day though,” she drawls, slyly.

“Ruby!” Snow tries to stop all thoughts of her daughter having sex with her best friend.

“I love Emma to pieces Snow, but I am _not_ into her like that. Though your face there would be worth it!” Ruby is practically doubled over, laughing. She straightens and presses a hand to her belly, trying to get her breath back.

“ _Is_ she dating someone?”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Ruby slings her jacket over the counter and pulls the seat across from Snow out to sit down.

“She’s not going to tell me something like that, not when she’s so busy trying to pretend she’s not a mess and wakes up crying most nights.”

Ruby blinks slowly, as though processing that nugget of information.

“Ok, it’s not my information to tell, but she _is_ seeing someone… I think,” Ruby squints. “I’m only telling you this because you are my best friend.”

Snow nods, calculating. If it wasn’t Ruby… who could it be. She flicked through the options in town. Blue… She threw that option straight in the bin. Belle… The young brunette was so enamoured with Rumpelstiltskin she couldn’t see Emma trying to break something up. She was quiet whilst she thought, not reacting to Ruby standing to go get her apron on. Her friend set a fresh cup of tea down in front of her.  Snow raised an eyebrow at the realisation she was only considering women… Still… Her mind landed on a name that had her going “ah, of course” inside.

“Regina?” Her query was confirmed by Ruby’s smirk. “Really?”

She didn’t know how she felt about that.

Regina and Snow were… complicated… and that was the greatest understatement of the century. But slowly, slowly, Snow had come to regard the other woman as family, as antagonistic as their relationship was. And if Emma was finding some semblance of happiness with Regina… then who was Snow to stand in her way.

Although Neal and Hook were still buzzing around like flies.

“Are they actually dating?”

Ruby pauses her polishing of a clean table and ponders this for a moment. “I don’t know. I just know there are feelings... But this isn’t my story to tell you Snow, so don’t ask me to betray Emma’s confidence anymore.”

Snow nodded her understanding. “But you’ve been drinking with her? Why wasn’t _I_ invited?” She pouts, for effect.

“Because Snow you have a bun in the oven, and no offence, but we were there for hard core drinking and dancing. And neither is your thing.”

Snow bristles a little, opening her mouth to refute those claims but then deflates. “Yeah, fine.”

Ruby smiles, winking. “Don’t worry, you can come next time.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, thanks for reading folks. Let me know what you think.

_There’s angry voices everywhere and metal and pain and Emma’s heart is in her throat as metal whistles through the air, close, slicing – but not quite, or not that deep anyway. She’s dancing clumsily and lashing out but it’s not enough to get away or to defend. She’s tired. She’s hungry. She’s fucking scared and all she can think of is KILL PROTECT and of the brunette back in the cell with soft hands and soft lips. The mother of her son. Comfort._

_Emma dodges left and throws a punch that she feels painfully in her fist, her shoulder. He goes down. Another one, snarling and gigantic, attempts to grab her but Emma drops, foot flying up to crush his balls. He goes down screaming, clutching between his legs._

_She’s not fast enough in getting up though and something hits her shoulder, splitting skin._

_Emma screams this time, and things start to go quiet as more approach and Emma knows she’s in for a world of pain. Bracing herself, she snatches a blade up from a man on the ground she attempts to get into a defensive position but the knife is knocked from her hand._

_The only weapon left, Emma throws herself at them, hoping to do some damage before-_

“Ok,” Archie coughs, laughing – wheezing. “It’s ok.”

Emma is frozen, looking at her hands, at his hands pressed to where she’d smacked him in the chest.

“Um-“

“Emma.” Archie coughs again. “Really, it’s ok.”

“I’m so sorry,” she throws out and stands, looking around wildly for her jacket before opting for the door instead.

“Wait Emma!”

Emma stops with a hand braced on the door handle and turns to face him.

“It’s ok, really. Don’t run, Emma. But we can end early today if you like, we have covered a lot. I do think we should talk about what you experienced there before you go, briefly”

They’d been trying new techniques, helping Emma to face what happened. CBT was supposed to help people travel into their memories. It was successful, apparently.

Archie’s never mentioned what Emma told him about Regina, and for that she is thankful.

She’s been able to smile a little easier at the other woman on their occasional family dinners where she’s been able to walk up to the door of 108 Mifflin. She’s cancelled many, with flimsy excuses and she hates herself at the understanding tone Regina has on the phone. She hates herself at Henry’s sigh of disappointment she can practically _feel_ from across town. But she has gone to some, and it’s been a dance between uncomfortable for her, the hopeful and overjoyed look on Henrys face, the silent watching – assessing – from Regina, and peace, her family, her _people_ , giving her brief moments of respite.

She’s going tonight.

She’s going, she’s going, she’s definitely going. She will crush that ball of anxiety and damn well go. The thought of Regina’s cooking makes her mouth water.

“Ok,” she sighs. “Thank you for being patient with me.” Emma turns and gestures vaguely at Archie’s chest. “And… sorry… about that. But I really want to go.” She needs some air, and is rattled enough and embarrassed enough she’s willing to overlook Archie’s advice. A small voice tells her this is a bad idea, but it’ll be _fine._

“It’s ok, Emma, I promise. I’ll see you next time alright?”

Emma feels the whisper of a smile on her lips and she nods, before fleeing the room.

 _Coward_ , the small voice says.

 

* * *

 

Emma relishes the comfort the leather sofa gives as she slouches into it, a glass of cider in hand. She’s feeling a little rattled because of her session with Archie, though her night with her family has been really good. Henry’s knife and fork scraping against his plate had made her cringe a few times, making her feel her heart rate shoot sky high, but his sheepish apology and chatter about school helped sooth that. She can’t quite shake the unbalanced mood though, and it’s at odds with the warm feeling Regina’s cider and delicious food has left in her belly. She’s also resolutely ignoring the speculative gaze Regina has fixed on her.

Henry had gone to bed, exhausted with his day and the excitement of having both his mother’s under the same roof. He’d been struggling to keep his eyes open after dinner when they had all agreed to watch a movie together. His first suggestion of a Michael Bay film had been vetoed by Regina, who Emma sent a thankful nod towards. They settled on a comedy, not that Emma really took it in. But she enjoyed spending time with Henry and Regina nonetheless.

His feeble protestations of “but I’m not tired” were laughed at, Regina sending him to bed when the film was done. His head had been lolling against Emma’s shoulder by the time the credits had rolled, and he’d gone up the stairs, grumbling, but not before hugging both his mothers.

Regina shifts and Emma slightly tenses, anticipating something though she’s not quite sure what – she certainly doesn’t expect Regina’s stockinged feet to be indelicately dumped in her lap.

“Thank you,” Regina smirks over the lip of her own glass before taking a sip, before finally moving her head away and looking at the fire.

“For what?” Emma asks quietly, leaning forward, over Regina’s feet to place her glass on the coffee table before settling back, hands gravitating to her lap as she scoops up Regina’s left foot. She smirks slightly as Regina groans and drops her head back slightly.

“Coming, tonight. I know it’s hard.”

Emma shrugs, and continues to press at the tendons on the bottom of Regina’s delicate foot. How is it that the damn woman has perfect feet too? Her toes were cute. Ugh. Emma mentally shook her head at herself.

They sit in silence, the crackling of the fire and the occasional sigh of satisfaction from Regina their soundtrack. Emma felt some peace, in the quiet, in the simple task she was occupied with, and she felt safe. She took a deep breath, her mood starting to lighten.

A log pops loudly in the fire, startling Emma, and she just reacts on instinct.

“Emma! Emma, come back to me, it’s ok. Emma. _Emma_!” Regina’s hands were on her cheeks, on her shoulders, on her chest.  Emma couldn’t move, her muscles burned with how tense she was, how hard she was straining – to move – to not move. She couldn’t breathe, mouth hanging open, but inspire of her lungs expanding to take breath, it wasn’t enough.

Emma blinked. She was on top of Regina, a hand braced on her shoulder and Emma’s other hand, curled into a fist, was poised - hovering like a snake with its head reared back.

Ready to strike.

“Emma?”

Emma swallows, trying to clear her head. She’s clammy and on fire and god, she wants to throw up.

What was fucking new – Emma lets loose a strained sob, pulling back like Regina was on fire and she crouches as far as she can away on the opposite end of the couch.

“Oh god… oh god… Regina… I” She’s not even looking at Regina, she’s looking at her traitorous, dangerous fucking hands. She clenches them and relaxes them. She’s trembling, can’t quite catch her breath and she’s spiralling once more. Breath catches in her throat. Her heart. Oh god her chest is sore.

Oh god.

It’s deadly quiet, but she can hear her own breathing, a rushing noise in her ears. The jarring feeling of her heart clanking away in her chest.

She hears Regina calling her name, can feel the other woman coming closer but Emma cowers. She’s shaking her head, conscious of a voice, a safe voice but there’s also loud noises and _fear_ and fuck she’s-

A hand lands on her arm and Emma shoots off the couch. Where is safe?

She trips, stumbles, and falls. Onto the glass coffee table in front of the sofa. She feels it crack, and shatter. She feels a thousand cuts as she falls through it, onto sharp shards. She can’t feel it though. She can’t breathe. A loud startled voice, coming closer.

Closer.

Emma curls into a ball amongst the broken glass, presses the heels of her hands to her eyes, and lets her sobbing wrack her frame.

 

* * *

 

Emma opens her eyes, wondering where she is for a few seconds. The sheets don’t smell like the soap powder Snow uses and it takes a moment to click. She’s laying on her front, face in the soft pillow, facing off to the windows with drapes she recognises. She relaxes immediately, knowing now where she is. She recognises that lamp, that leather bound journal. She recognises the scent of Regina’s bedroom and can feel the heat of the other woman by her side.

She takes a deep breath, appreciating that she is where she is.

And immediately draws away from the warm body she can feel stretching behind her, turning over sharply.

“Regina, what happened! I-“

Emma is lost for words, none form on her tongue, none willing to sail past her teeth – the shame and horror drying them up. Her memories come flying back. Almost hitting Regina. Breaking the table. Crying and shaking and Regina suddenly being _there_ , just talking calmly, doing breathing exercises with her – _these have helped me in the past_ \- drawing her out. Shakily supporting her up the stairs and into the bed. Regina is stronger than she looks. Emma touches her arms, inspecting for cuts and scrapes from the glass she clearly remembered digging into her.

Emma stares at Regina, her eyes searching the other woman’s face for _something._ Anything.

“I healed you, if you are wondering.”

Regina looks up from where she’s been reading her book, sitting up against the headboard. She looks perfectly calm, a pair of reading spectacles perched on the end of her nose and her silk pyjamas in place. Emma suddenly looked at herself, stripped down to her underwear.

“It’s going to take time, Emma. This is not a linear process.”

Emma is stunned for a moment, unable to process Regina’s acceptance, fumbling for coherent words.

“I… attacked you.”

“Yes, you were triggered. That’s ok.” Regina was so calm and measured, Emma couldn’t help but relax a little. Just a little.

“No! It’s _not_.”

Regina puts down her book, and slips her glasses off, folding them up and putting both items on her bedside table. She shuffles forward, gathering Emma’s hands in hers.

“Listen to me, Emma, and really _try_ to listen ok?”

Emma swallows, blinks back tears of frustration, and nods.

“This is _not_ your fault, Emma Swan.” Regina ducked her head to catch Emma’s eyes. Emma can’t look away. “This is _not_ your fault. You’re human, and you had – god – we _both_ had a horrific experience-“

“But why are you not-“ Emma tries to interrupt.

“I am _not_ ok, Emma.”

Emma is left blinking owlishly at this revelation, taking in the pain that sweeps over Regina’s features. The brunette takes a moment to wipe away a tear, and retakes Emma’s hand.

“I’m not ok, but I am dealing with it. I have before, and I will be fine.” Regina’s brow tightens, and she looks resolutely at Emma, who’s mind is whirling. “I will tell you one day”

“Why not now?”

“Because _I_ am not the one falling apart,” Regina says exasperatedly, some of her calm façade breaking. She squeezes Emma’s hands. Emma watched tears start to fall from those pained dark eyes. Something in Emma wails at the sight.

“I’m hurting you, I’m going to go home.” Emma pulls her hands from Regina’s and scrambles off the bed. “I just need some space?” She says more to herself than Regina, and considering she normally craves being with the other woman, she is surprised at the words that come out her mouth.

“You don’t have to go, Emma.”

Something in Emma aches every time she hears her name fall from Regina’s lips. Whether it’s angry, happy, scolding, teasing… resigned…

“No I think I need to, and I need you to let me.”

Regina deflates, her hands dropping to the bedding. She says nothing, does nothing, whilst Emma dresses herself from the neatly folded pile of clothes on the chaise longue.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update so quick, my goodness!  
> As ever, i love hearing about what people think of this :)

The pile of scrunched up paper litters the space around the trash can, and Emma takes her time in setting up her next shot.

She’s grumpy, red-eyed, sleepless. What’s new. And hungry. All bad things.

Emma spent the night before tossing and turning and cursing herself for being stupid and leaving the comfort of Regina’s bed. It had been the right thing to do though, right? It had felt right to make a decision based on her being in control. Was that it?

She didn’t know, and she was pissed about it.

Pissed off at life.

Snow had spent some time over a far too bright and merry family breakfast making cryptic statements about people loving whomever they chose and Emma had spent some time squinting questioningly at the brunette over the lip of her coffee mug. Even David had been giving her the side eye.

Eventually, Emma had volunteered herself for the dayshift, letting David have the day with Snow. Nobody could say she wasn’t attempting to be a good daughter.

Which is how Emma came to be sitting with her feet up on the desk, productively throwing paper balls into the trash.

“Score,” she says to the empty room, as one goes in. Finally.

She sighs, bored now with the silly game, and stands, stretching her legs. She brings her arms above her head, pushing them high, and gets some satisfying pops from her vertebrae.

“Busy, Sheriff?”

There’s something about Regina saying sheriff and meaning _her_ that sends a shiver of delight down her spine, and for a moment she is transported to simpler times.

“Hey,” she greets. “Sorry about the mess.” Emma quickly moves to clean up the paper from the floor and stands once more, wiping her hands on her jeans. “What can I do for you Regina?”

“I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

Emma’s instantly on the defensive, nervous. Regina has her determined face on. “What do you want to talk about?” Emma moves behind her desk and sits again, crossing her arms.

“About you leaving,” Regina says.

“I’m sorry.”

Regina nods once, before stepping right up to the desk. She plants both hands on the surface and leans over until she’s level with Emma and has her eye contact.

Regina licks her lips.

Emma twitches.

“Don’t you dare hide from me, Emma Swan,” She’s not letting Emma retreat into self-loathing and misery. “Don’t you dare turn away from me. Don’t shut me out. Especially not now. Especially not after that speech you gave the at the fayre. You owe me this much.”

“You told me to stay away, and you were right, I’m not safe,” Emma splutters.

Regina throws her hands up, exasperated. “Yes, because you always do what I tell you to, we might not be in this mess if you had listened to me.”

Emma gapes, outraged, zeroing in on what she thinks that statement means. “We have been over this! Do you think I had a fucking choice?”

“Well you didn’t have to throw yourself into the ring for me! You didn’t need to get yourself in that situation!”

“What? And watch you get torn to shreds, Regina? Do you really think I would do that? Do you really think I could stand by and watch as you got more bruised and battered? Do you really know me at all?” Emma is standing now, hands braced on the desk. “Regina,” she continues, “you are… _important_ …” Her breath catches in her throat but she forces herself on, “You have always been important. For Henry. For me. Even when we were at each other’s throats.”

“You don’t have to do this alone you idiot. I wish-“

“I wish many things too, Regina.” Emma breaks away from the table, turning around for a moment to collect herself. She puts her hands to her face, pressing the palms of her hands into her eyes until she can see stars. It will maybe stop her eyes from burning. It will maybe stop the feeling of tears always being on standby. She takes a deep breath, and turns back around. Emma looks at Regina pleadingly. “How can you stand to look at me after the other night?” She doesn’t know which night she means. She means them all. She thinks of Regina pressing at her shoulders through a wet, drunken haze. She thinks of her hand gripping Regina’s shoulder, her fist raised. She thinks of sliding herself between Regina’s stiff body and the door frame.

“Because,” Regina sniffs back tears, her face crumbling. She looks the most vulnerable Emma’s ever seen. “You weren’t yourself. And that doesn’t absolve you. On either count. But I know you’re sorry. I know you are beating yourself up. And I just- damn it Emma.” Regina steps forward and kisses Emma softly, chaste. She lets her hands cup Emma’s face and her thumbs stroke soft skin.

Emma makes a noise at the back of her throat.

“Would you just let yourself be, and let others take care of you. You used to let me do that.”

“I wasn’t a danger to you then, Regina.”

“You are _not_ a danger to me now,” Regina rests her forehead against Emma’s willing the other woman to believe her.

“I can’t-“

“Yes, you _can._ Trust me to be able to look after myself sometimes. I could always just knock you out with magic,” Regina suggests dryly with a quirk of her mouth.

Emma could feel a small smile forming before her next thought. “But what if… What if I do _that_ with Henry.”

Regina breathes a slow breath against Emma’s downturned lips. “Ok, I will accept that with Henry, and I agree. But with _me,_ please don’t hide yourself. Remember, you have people, you said. I am one of them.”

Something shifts between them.

Emma takes a deep breath, nodding against Regina’s head.

“I’m tired, Regina. I’m just so tired.”

“I know you are.”

“And I’m just so fed up of being in this fucking repetitive loop of angst. It _sucks_.”

Regina snorts. “Eloquent as always, my dear.”

“Yeah well, we don’t all come from the school of talk-properly-or-be-punished.”

“Touché.”

They fell silent, just resting against each other. Emma wasn’t sure when her arms made their way around Regina, resting flat on the other woman’s back. Regina’s arms encircled Emma’s head, one hand playing with her hair at the nape of her neck. Time passed but Emma didn’t pay attention, and at some point, they started to sway to some unknown tune in their heads.

Eventually, Emma’s stomach rumbles, causing a small chuckle to form in Regina’s throat.

“I brought food to sate the beast.” She slides a hand between them to let her fingertips scratch at Emma’s abdomen.

“God yes,” Emma declares, turning for a moment to wipe tears away from her eyes. Regina catches her arm, gently turning her back, and produces a tissue from _somewhere_ to dab at her cheeks.

“All better for the moment, ok?”

Emma ducks her head, embarrassed. “Yeah,” she mumbles, her hand going to the back of her head. “Are those grilled cheeses? Plural?”

“Well, I was thinking of a kale salad, but I decided differently today.”

“Root beers too? You’re the best.” Emma was lured into a seat by her desk by the smell of the food, and she was hungry. Definitely.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Regina’s eyes blink open and she sucks in a slow breath through her teeth. Her jaw hurts. She’s obviously been clenching her teeth whilst sleeping.

Not that it was a pleasant or restful sleep.

She pushes herself up onto her elbows with a tired groan, running her tongue over her lips. She feels…

Disgusting.

Sweat covers her and her nightclothes stick uncomfortably to her, so she rids herself of them and stands in the moonlight filtering into the room, naked. Regina takes some deep, cleansing breathes and tries to let go of the images that filled her sleeping mind.

Emma asked her why she was ok a while ago, recently as well, and Regina has balked at the words that come to mind. She has nightmares. Constantly. It’s Regina’s normal state of being. Ever since…

Ever since she’d been sold to a king and shackled to his legacy.

Even during rapturous reign, free of fear, she still had them.

Even as Mayor Mills.

She’s not really ever been ok.

Until a short, brief interlude where she clung to her saviour and felt safe… in spite of being in hell.

But she doesn’t have anything as serious as what Emma is experiencing right now she thinks as she wipes her mouth with her hand. Or at least she doesn’t think so. Maybe she’s used to it. She’s used to feeling trapped and too many hands and eyes on her. She dreams of an old grey man and is sick to her stomach when she catches flashes of blonde in her scattered recollections of these nightmares. She makes it to the toilet just in time to throw up in the bowl.

It’s a sad state of affairs that she can say that she’s used to violence and captivity and she vomits again when she thinks of a grey monarchs and their rank breath in her ear.

Regina washes her mouth out, brushing her teeth thoroughly. She washes her hands. Stares at herself in the large mirror in the bathroom.

Why is she tolerating what Emma did?

How is she managing to reconcile something so abhorrent as rape? _You are no innocent in these kinds of deeds_ a dark voice whispers viciously in the back of her mind. Not that that made it ok for things like that to happen to Regina. Why is she not running a mile? Punishing Emma. If it was anyone else she would destroy them.

Uncertainty, hope. These were the two feelings that Regina felt predominantly when she thought of Emma Swan. The stubborn feeling of being safe around her. In spite of everything. She didn’t know what that said about her.

Regina makes her way back to bed, selecting a clean pair of pyjamas on her way. She pulls the twisted sheets into some semblance of order, and picks up her phone from the bedside table.

 ** _Hey_** _,_ she taps out, her thumb hovering over the send button for only a moment.

She only has to wait about twenty seconds before her phone vibrates with a reply.

 ** _Hi_** _._ Of course Emma was awake.

 ** _Can’t sleep?_**   Stupid question really. She knows Emma isn’t sleeping. Everyone does. Between the two of them, they know she won’t be sleeping unless she’s with Regina.

She had stopped asking to come over though, which Regina appreciates.

 ** _Yeah_** _,_ Emma replies. **_R u ok?_**

Regina smiles at the blonde’s concern and her text style. **_Can’t sleep either._**

 ** _Oh._** Another message comes through almost immediately. **_I can text u lullabies or stupid jokes?_**

A snort makes its way from Regina’s nose before she takes a deep breath, composing her reason for texting. **_No, that’s quite alright. You can come over here to sleep if you wish._**

**_Are u sure? Dont want to pressure u._ **

Regina pauses for a moment, searching her feelings. She can’t ignore the big stubborn ball of feelings sitting in her gut.

**_I’m sure. See you soon._ **

Emma comes over.

Regina is perched on the outside steps to the house as the bug pulls up and the blonde cuts the engine. She steps out, gently closing the door to the car.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Regina echoes, standing. Her knees crack loudly, momentarily alleviating the sudden tension between them. It’s not like they haven’t been here before, just on less… equal footing. “Come in,” she listens to the blonde’s footsteps as she follows Regina inside.

They walk up the stairs in the dark, shoulders bumping. There’s enough light to see what they are doing coming from the glass in the doorway. Neither woman speaks, until Regina leads them into her bedroom and Emma hesitates at the door.

“Come in, Emma.”

The blonde nods quickly, jerking herself into motion. She pulls off her hoody, revealing a crumpled pyjama top. _Of course_. Emma pauses, looking at the bed, then at Regina in askance.

“In the bed or…”

“I’m not having a good night _either_ , so I need some space.”

Emma nods, willingly. “Ok, so… the floor?”

Regina’s awash with fondness at the blonde’s willingness to accept that and sleep on the floor. She gestures to the chaise longue.

“You will find this quite comfy, I’ve fallen asleep on it myself.”

Regina furnishes Emma with some blankets before slipping into her bed again and subtly watches the blonde strip her jeans off and settle down on the chair, pulling one of the cushions under her head. Regina smirks, knowing the blonde would just sleep in her underwear and a t-shirt. The pyjama bottoms she’d included with the blankets lay on the floor, ignored.

“You’re right, this is comfy. It’s comfier than my _bed!_ ”

They talk for a while, about nothing in particular. Henry's grades. Snow’s cryptic comments to Emma. Regina lets out a short bark of laughter.

“Your mother isn’t a complete idiot all of the time. She was once a skilled hunter. She’s not as oblivious as you might think.”

“You guys have all this history that I don’t know.”

“We do.”

They both fall asleep in time, talked out, comfortable, and don’t wake until morning.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIGHT guys :D Here is another chapter. Now, i've got the rest of this story mapped out, and almost written. Maybe another 2-3 chapters i think. It's about damn time as well, since i've been writing this for approximately 84 years.  
> As ever, please let me know what you think.

Emma goes about her day with a mild spring in her step. She’d slept properly, if fitfully. But no nightmares. She’s feeling vaguely rested for once. Ready to deal with whatever the day throws at her.

She’d slept on the chaise longue in Regina’s room, covered in a blanket that smelt like the brunette. It wasn’t perfect, her feet had hung over the end of the cushioned seat but it was the best sleep she’d had in weeks. And it was more than she deserved, so Emma wasn’t going to complain.

She casts her mind back to the early morning when Regina had roused her with a gentle brush of a hand to her arm.

“This isn’t too much is it?” Emma had asked, eyes studying the carpet as she pulled her jeans on.

“I think I’ll survive.” Regina padded over to her, perfect bed-hair and soft face. She took Emma’s hands, running her thumbs over pale knuckles. “I’ll… tell you if I’m not ok with you being near me...”

“I…” Emma nodded emphatically. “Yes, do that. That’s absolutely fair.” She squeezed Regina’s hands.

“Would you like to stay for breakfast?”

Emma didn’t need to be asked twice.

So, she’d sat herself at the kitchen island where Regina directed her, and found she couldn’t take her eyes off of Regina as the other woman busied herself with brewing her expensive, not often shared coffee, and pulling things out of cupboards.

It wasn't not long until a sleep mussed Henry shuffled into the kitchen, his eyes still practically closed and his hair sticking up in every direction. He didn’t even react to Emma’s presence, instead moving his face vaguely in the direction of what Regina is cooking, nose raising in the air momentarily, then moving to pull out plates and cutlery.

“Oh,” he blinked, after he walked past Emma three times. “Emma!”

“It’s ok kid,” Emma bit back a chuckle, knowing fine well how like a zombie he was when he first woke. She hugged him warmly when he came over.

It was an easy hug. The thought was hung with pride on the walls of her heart. It’s been a while since Emma had felt his small body pressed against hers and not had feelings of guilt crawling up her throat. Henry smiled and Emma felt her face stretching to match him, the expression almost feeling alien. He then moved to take a third one of everything out the cupboards.

Regina made eggs and pancakes, her lips in an appreciative smirk as Emma crowed her delight. Henry scoffed his breakfast quickly, eyes darting between his mothers who ate slowly, contemplatively. And there was an expectant edge in the air between them all.

But it wasn’t uncomfortable, Emma reflected.

She didn’t miss Henry trying and failing to be subtle at his studying of her and his mother.

And nobody said anything, just breathed in each other’s company, wakening up to their day.

It was the most comfortable social situation Emma had been in with her _family_ for a long time.

It had only been when she’d been standing at the front door, waving Henry off to school as he walked down the pathway from the house, Regina close enough behind and to the side of her – close enough for Emma to feel the heat radiating off the other woman. Only when she felt Regina’s fingertips gently graze down her palm, did she realise.

This was the first time she’d had breakfast in the house.

With Regina and Henry. Her family.

“Hey, what is it?” Regina asked, her brow creasing.

Emma ducked her head, embarrassment making her cheeks burn as she murmured “I just get overwhelmed sometimes. By you guys. By how much you mean to me.”

“Oh,” Regina replied, a faint blush brushing across her cheeks as she lowered her head too.

Emma had hesitantly started to move off from the porch then, too.

“I should go, I guess. Work and all.”

“Have a good day Emma.”

So Emma went about her day, remarkably light. She’d gone home and showered, changed, and headed out on patrol. It was almost like one of those cheesy montages where children rode past, waving, on their bikes – where a mother and her child sauntered down the street in a pastel perfect sunbeam. Ruby waved to her from Granny’s front yard, winking and grinning. Emma smirked and tucked her hands in her pockets.

Mrs Puddleduck had some cat drama and Emma rescued that darned cat from the tree with a smile. She didn’t mention the claw marks on her forearm. She didn’t even care.

The sun was shining. The air was clear. It made her forget, for a while, about everything that had gone before.

She buys a coffee and a bearclaw at Granny’s, teasing Ruby for her short shorts and heads back to the station for her favourite thing. Paperwork. Even that can’t dampen her mood, and Emma attacks the epic pile of reports she has to complete with something approaching enthusiasm.

It’s been a very good day.

Henry appears after school, surprising Emma since she hadn’t paid attention to the time at all.

“Oh, I was totally lost in my own world there,” she stretches and moves for what is probably the first time in hours.

“It’s good to see a smile on your face, Emma.”

And oh she blushes at that, and busies herself tidying folders on one of the other desks.

Henry doesn’t continue, but asks for some juice and busies himself doing his homework. Emma returns to her own desk, intent on continuing her paperwork but she finds her eyes drifting back to the young boy time and time again.

Henry is a wonder of her world, and she will never get over the fact that he – this entire being with a personality, hopes and dreams – came from her.

Don’t get her wrong, he is more Regina’s than hers – the brunette is there, shining through almost everything Henry does but still – Emma _made_ him. Made his fingers and toes and that very Regina like dark mop of hair.

It’s getting too long, she thinks – _a mom thought -_  she snorts to herself.

Emma’s train of thought is interrupted as Henry starts to talk, never moving his head from it’s position angled down at the desk. His pen continues scratching away studiously.

“Will one of you ever tell me what is going on between you? Emma. You and mom. I saw you cuddling.”

Emma doesn’t realise her jaw’s hanging open until she takes a sharp inhale and chokes on her own saliva causing a coughing fit. By the time she can breathe again, Henry has turned in his chair, a concerned eyebrow raised.

“I don’t have a problem with it, you’re my moms. I just want to know what’s going on.”

He’s not mad, just, resigned, and he sits with an expectant look upon his face for a full sixty seconds before prompting her again.

“Mom! Come on,” he prods, softly.

Emma takes a deep breath, cursing that Regina isn’t here. She feels for the first time, able to talk about _things_ with Henry. But Regina should really be here.

“I- we-“

“Are you dating?”

Ok it’s proving harder to talk about than Emma expected, her cheeks reddening again. She sits back, hand going to the back of her neck.

“Um.”

“Because I’ve seen you both asleep together, and then you stay over some times. And then you were there for breakfast. I don’t know. These are,” Henry looks thoughtful for a moment, “datey things.”

“Datey things,” Emma chokes out, _really_ wishing Regina was here. The other woman needed to signal to her somehow that talking to Henry about whatever they were was ok. She needed Regina’s input here.

Like an answering sign from a higher power, the rhythmic sound of heels echoed into the bull pen. Emma blew out a breath of relief.

Regina arrived to the obvious stand off between mother and son.

“What’s going on,” she drawled, trying to get the measure of the situation, an eyebrow rising before Henry interrupted her.

“Mom, Emma was just going to tell me about what was going on between you and her.”

Regina’s head whipped round faster than looked healthy for a human neck to cope with and Emma froze in the brunette’s laser like gaze.

“Was she now?”

“What? No – Henry!” Emma glared at her little shit of a son. He smirked at her behind Regina’s back.

“He just asked the question Regina,” Emma stands up, her palms out like she was trying to placate the brunette. “I hadn’t answered.” She moves closer, her voice lowering. “He’s seen us asleep together,” she says gently, her hand moving to Regina’s arm. Emma wasn’t going to be putting words in Regina’s mouth.

Regina blinks, her rising ire suddenly gone. She looks at Emma’s hand on her forearm intensely, before raising her eyes to meet Emma’s.

“Okay?” It was a whisper, a question, a statement.

Emma nod, “Okay.”

Regina turns to their patiently waiting son, his eyes darting between them both and she walks over to perch on the desk beside where he sits. Emma stays close to her side, her hand hovering at the small of Regina’s back before she clenches her fist and brings it to rest on her own.

“As you know Henry, Emma and I have been through a lot. As have you.” Regina reaches out to stroke Henry’s hair away from his forehead. He nods, thoughtful.

“So are you dating?”

Regina’s hand pauses where her fingers touch his ear, before she smiles and looks at Emma for a moment.

“No, Henry we are not. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t very close.”

Emma decides she doesn’t mind this answer. The enormity of everything that has happened up until now makes the term dating seem so paltry and too simple. She then decides to rest her hand on Regina’s back after all, and the brunette leans into her palm.

Henry’s face is screwed up like he’s trying to understand but can’t quite grasp everything. He says so.

“Henry, your mom and I,” Emma speaks up, suddenly aware of both brunettes focusing on her. Regina smiles encouragingly. “We care a lot about each other. And in time, who knows if _dating_ ,” the word tasting wrong on her tongue, “will be the word for us. But for now, we are just- “Emma breaks off, struggling to find words that encompass what they all are.

“We’re a family,” Regina whispers, reaching back to grab Emma’s hand and bring in front of them both. She then takes Henry’s hand, and places it on top of Emma’s, before cupping both with her own hands. “This,” she looks down at their hands, “Is us, and it’s ours. We are a team.” Regina looks up, her eyes suddenly wet and Emma’s breath is stolen by the sheer emotion she seeing.

Henry places his other hand on top of Regina’s, his smaller reaching around as far as he can. “Our family.”

Emma can feel the emotions threatening to breach the wall inside and she lets out a wet chuckle and places her hand on top of the pile too. “Our family.”

They are quiet for a few moments, until Henry ducks his head and sniffs, letting out a little laugh. “This isn’t just because Emma has a thing about labels is it?” He slyly looks up, grinning.

“You little shit!” Emma exclaims as she tries to disentangle her hands to playfully smack at him but Regina holds fast, scrabbling to hold on to fingers and palms until she gets a few moments of meaningful eye contact with Emma.

Emma nods earnestly, blinking back tears that are forming. It’s their little family. Regina is telling her she’s her family. Emma is hers. It’s all a complicated mess but they are not giving up on each other because that’s not what families do.

It’s later on when they are walking up Regina’s stairs together that the brunette breathes to her in the semi dark, “we are whatever we are, Emma, okay?”

Emma grasps her wrist to still Regina’s progress, and leans in slightly, waiting for a nod of consent before kissing her.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes are my own ^^

The Rabbit Hole is busy, loud, crowded. The bass is thumping loud and hard enough for Emma to feel it in her chest. It’s something base, something primal and the very essence of music like that gets her pulse pounding. In a good way. It’s heaven for some and hell for others.

Ruby crows her delight again at getting everyone out tonight – Henry staying at home with David - and she raucously toasts “good times,” before laughing knowingly. They were out for an optimistically titled “girls night out” – Emma, Regina, Ruby and Snow -  Henry was safely ensconced with David at the loft.  

Emma throws back another shot, eyes never leaving Regina’s who is slamming her glass back down with enthusiasm and a wicked, sly grin. Emma can feel the brunette’s eyes sliding down her neck as her head is thrown back, down to her cleavage which she knows looks good. Jeans and a button down, with plenty of buttons left undone, this is a tried and tested favourite for going out. Regina can’t stop staring.

Damn.

The sheer need she feels for Regina is almost debilitating.

And Regina isn’t helping.

There had been the noticeable quietening of the crowd when Regina had stepped into the building, the hesitance of all its occupants as they recognised their once monarch. Emma had tensed, ready for some comment, some fight sparking action – but Regina had just scoffed and removed her jacket to reveal a figure hugging black dress, her hair piled on top of her head and what could only be described as fuck me heels, dramatic, dark make up. The noise had slowly resumed its previous levels when she rolled her eyes and marched straight up to the barwoman to order three tequila shots. All for her.

As it was now, Emma couldn’t take her eyes off the other woman, trying and failing at being subtle about it, and tried to cover herself by ordering more drinks for all.

Snow hovers behind them all, asking for a soda water and lime, her eyes then wistfully following the rise and fall of the small glasses.

“Well, we’re trying,” she ventures slowly, quietly, when Ruby asks what on earth she’s doing not drinking. Emma feels her heart skip a beat. She takes a deep breath and tries not to focus her eyes on anything.

She doesn’t care. Nope. She’s happy for her parents to do… _that…_ get that opportunity for new beginnings. A fresh start, she can’t help thinking – she can’t help the ever so slight flavour of jealously salting her tongue either. She’s had enough alcohol now she can almost skip over things. Almost-

Snow’s looking down, her hand grazing over her belly before Regina slams another glass down, startling them all, throwing her hands up. She runs her tongue over her top teeth slowly, baring them briefly.

“You really have no idea, do you,” Regina shouts over the music at Snow, before turning to Emma with anger, empathy and purpose. She grabs her hand, dragging Emma into the press of bodies on the dance floor, pushing through until they are lost in the sea of darkened faces and pulses.

Emma feels herself starting to panic at first, and Regina’s face turns apologetic as soon as she feels Emma’s hand tightening on hers, her face paling, and she starts to push them both back towards the edge of the moving crowd but Emma places a hand on Regina’s chest, taking a deep breath and starts to move with everyone around them.

So they dance.

And It’s like the world zeroes to them as they move together. The people around them cease to exist other than heat and heartbeats and the thrumming beat. It’s enthralling and seductive. Regina leans close, and Emma can feel every breath on her ear, her cheek, her neck. She can feel her body come alive, a fizzing rush of pleasure racing down her spine to between her legs. There’s that awareness, that buzzing in her belly. She’s on fire, enraptured by the woman currently tugging her hips closer, fingers hooking through Emma’s belt loops, eyes darkened by desire and low, intimate lighting.

Emma’s hands skim over Regina’s hips, up, curving to her waist, to her back. She pulls her close and presses their hips together, lets the rhythm of the music guide her body. Regina grins and lazily throws her arms over Emma’s shoulders, one hand coming up to tangle loosely in the hair at the nape of Emma’s neck and Emma can’t help but press her nose against Regina’s neck. Her lips graze hot skin and she can feel vibrations as Regina moans deep in her throat.

The brunette pulls herself away though, before they get too lost in each other, a smirk on those lips and she breaks away with a lingering look, turning to head to the bar once more.

Emma starts to follow until cold metal hooks her elbow and she’s spun around roughly. She stumbles, still in a slight haze, and falls into some dancers who reach out to steady her. It’s created enough of a commotion that the people around them have stopped dancing. They’re staring, at her, at _him,_ uncertain.

Hook glowers and starts to come closer, Emma’s stunned and grasping for calm, but she’s got those flashes of pain and her pulse hammering in her throat again in a bad way now and - _fuck not again- not now-_

Regina is in front of her, suddenly, her hand on Emma’s forearm and Ruby slides in smoothly beside her – arm snaking over Emma’s shoulders. Ruby bares her teeth and for a moment, for a split second, Emma is terrified of her friend.

 “Well look at you, two guard dogs to protect you. Do I really warrant that?” Hook steps back again, sneering.

“Scum,” Ruby spits out.

Regina stalks up to Hook, danger and threat billowing from each step like an unfurling cloak and she pushes her face in close to his. Emma can’t hear what she says over the music but Hook’s face pales and his mouth sags open.

Ruby chuckles in her ear, the noise suddenly loud amongst the din of music.

“God I want to know what she’s saying to him. You’ve never seen _The Evil Queen_ in action have you?”

Emma shakes her head, memories of a snarling Mayor Mills assaulting her and Regina standing far too close for her not to get a rise out of Emma, in temper and heartrate.

The moment ends when Regina places a single finger on Hooks chest and pushes him back, his arms cartwheeling to keep balance. She returns to Emma, eyes hooded with intent, something dark embracing the brunette momentarily before she shakes her head, as though shaking off something hovering around her.

The crowd tentatively resumes it’s dancing around the women, Ruby melting off between others. Hook is nowhere to be seen now, and Emma pulls Regina to her.

“Thank you,” she breathes as Regina’s arms go around her again. Regina nods, stiffly, then presses her face into Emma’s shoulder. Emma holds on and Regina melts once more, her movements becoming fluid, hips moving to the beat. She turns in Emma’s arms, ass nestling against her front and their dancing almost becomes something else as the music dips lower, bass thrumming in time with them, hypnotic. Emma gets lost in Regina again, in the music, the press of bodies, the intoxicating woman pressed against her. Her hands glide over everything she can touch – abdomen, thighs, one hand wrapping around Regina’s upper arm and squeezing -  and she starts to forget where they are, so intensely focussed on the brunette pressed against her front; Regina’s arm is lifted, her hand threaded in blonde hair, head turning, mouth blindly seeking Emma’s.

Suddenly the music cut out, jarring Emma out of her haze - replaced by a loud klaxon and a chorus of disappointed cries.

“Damn,” Emma curses, breathing heavily, trying to clear her head. Regina’s eyes are glassy, her pupils almost completely black and Emma has to tear her eyes away from the brunette’s lips.

“Mmm,” Regina, agrees, taking a deep breath and a step away. “We better get outside.” She assesses the crush of people trying to get out the front of the bar with a tilt of her head and tuts. With a sigh, Regina grabs Emma’s hand and pulls her to the mobbed coat hooks before grabbing their jackets. She motions for Emma to turn, and helps slide the jacket up Emma’s arms.

Emma swallows with the tender, attentive action, goosebumps prickling her skin as the cold material slips over her flesh. Regina smooths her hands along Emma’s shoulders almost absentmindedly, before putting her own coat on with elegant, efficient motions, knotting the sash at the front, and grabs Emma’s hand, leading her to the exit at the back of the building.

The cold air hits them both like a sledge hammer, sobering them as they navigate the messy back alley and narrow passageway that brings them back to the front. People are milling around chaotically, the alarm echoing out into the night’s air. Their shoes crunch on the gritty tarmac of the ground, a rhythmic soundtrack to the night’s air.

A noise like a gunshot goes off as they pass the cars and Emma instinctively pushes Regina behind her. She holds her arms out protectively, eyes scanning for threats.

“Emma,” Regina grasps her shoulder, “Emma, it’s ok. It was just a car backfiring.”

Emma blinks, swallows, and she knows she’s blushing. Regina presses a kiss to her cheek anyway.

“My savior,” she drawls, and tucks her arm through Emma’s. They make their way home, both too inebriated to even contemplate driving – or to wonder where the others who’s accompanied them out had gone.

“Do you think Snow had a good time?” Emma ventures her query quietly as they pass the school. She will not think too hard about what Snow said. Not right now. Regina pressing against her side as they walk is enough of a distraction from brooding.

“I think I saw her with her dwarves, I’m sure she was fine.”

A text from Ruby makes Emma’s phone vibrate in her jacket pocket. **Got snow, Ill make sure she gets home. She saw u and R practically fucking fyi**

A second later, another text. **That was fucking hot btw ;)**

Emma smirks and stuffs her phone back in her pocket and they walk in comfortable silence all the way back to Mifflin, where Emma hesitates on the porch as Regina moves slowly and methodically to get her keys into the lock.

“You’re coming in Emma, let’s not pretend otherwise,” Regina throws over her shoulder as she turns the key, opening the door smoothly. Emma grins and follows her into the dark foyer of the house, where she’s pushed into a wall. Regina breathes heavily, inches from her, and grasps the lapels of Emma’s coat.

“I want you,” she growls and her mouth is on Emma’s before she can even think to respond. She’s moaning and Emma’s hands move to cup Regina’s ass, pulling her in tighter. It’s hot, messy, wet and everything a drunken _intoxicating_ kiss should be – Regina’s practically rubbing herself against Emma and the blonde rucks the black dress up and pushes her knee between Regina’s legs, pulling her more firmly onto it.

“Fuck,” Regina gasps, breaking the kiss, as she hesitates then grinds against Emma’s thigh. She grasps and ungrasps Emma’s jacket, as though unsure what to do with her hands, and she noses Emma’s head to the side to attach her mouth to the blonde’s neck.

Emma’s almost gone, almost completely lost in the sensations she’s feeling and the noises coming from Regina but it’s the sharpness of teeth nipping at her throat that has her shaking her head, trying to claw her way out of her aroused haze.

“Regina,” she clears her throat, stilling her hands and bringing them up to rest on the brunettes upper back. “We should stop, before we go too far.”

Regina sighs, a long, shaky breath _-_  and stills in her movements, breathing heavily.

“I suppose you are right,” she agrees reluctantly. She doesn’t move though, comfortably nestled against Emma in the dark hallway.

It’s only a few quiet moments later when Emma’s phone vibrates again that they are startled out of their position.

Regina runs her hands through her hair and pulls her dress back down before heading up the stairs. Emma lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, pulls her phone out once more and replies to Ruby’s demands of an assurance they were ok. She pockets the phone and after toeing off her boots, follows after Regina, nerves now plucking at her with each step. What if that wasn’t ok?

What if that was too much? Did she take advantage? They are both drunk. Okay but that is no excuse she argues in her head.

Questions start to whirl around in Emma’s mind as she approaches the door to Regina’s bedroom and she finds herself once more, rocking back on her heels, uncertain. The brunette answers all her questions for her by exiting the bathroom, pyjamas on and face scrubbed clean. She pulls Emma towards the bed and climbs into it before turning back for a moment.

“We are just going to bed, alright?”

Emma nods emphatically, and strips her jeans off, sliding in after Regina. She tentatively puts her arm over the brunette, finding this position strange, since she’s usually the little spoon. 

“It’s the first time I’ve drank since…”

“I know.” Regina pulls Emma’s tentatively placed arm tighter around herself, and wriggles further back against the blonde. “It’s ok. This was all ok.”

Emma relaxes, more confident in holding the brunette against her, and lets her eyes close.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jfc i'm so sorry for taking so damn long. Over the past couple of months I graduated from my nursing degree and started a new job and moved and fell in love and all good things but all my energy has just been burned up with life.  
> However we are nearing the end. I am so close. After this chapter, we have 1 or maybe 2 left.  
> Thank you so much for sticking with the story for this long. It's been a challenge to write, and it's developed my writing skills too, and reading about how much this story has meant to people has been incredible.  
> Usual disclaimer, i don't have a beta and i try to pick up on all mistakes but i am human with tired eyes ^^  
> Enjoy, and let me know what you think.

“So Emma, you’ve shared with me some of your time on the island, getting captured… do you think there is anything missing?”

It’s a new day, a new session. The sun is shining outside and lazy dust particles dance in the light streaming through the window. Pongo snores in the corner with one long leg sticking out his bed. He twitches occasionally in his plaid patterned bed.

Emma tilts her head.  “What do you mean?” She’s feeling more and more like she’s talking everything to death. That was supposed to help though.

And thinking over the past month, in fact – thinking all the way back to the start. It’s only when she started talking about everything that things became, well, _better._ She’s getting more sleep, granted it’s only when she’s in Regina’s bed, or at least in her bedroom.

They have taken that side slow, Emma absolutely trying to respect Regina’s pace in everything. But it was a little frustrating that she was sometimes invited into the brunettes bed – simply to sleep – and sometimes just to use the comfortable chaise longue. Emma reminds herself she is damn lucky to get either. She has meals with her family regularly, Henry no longer surprised to see her there in the morning, or randomly throughout the day.

She has just as much right to be in that house as her or Henry, Regina had said to her one day, before perfunctorily picking Emma’s clothes up off her bedroom floor.

They occasionally kiss, comfortable on the couch, warm and full, but it doesn’t stray past fingers tracing gently under hems and kissing until the need for air became important. Their lips bruise with mutual want but Emma won’t let herself trip over that precipice into smoothing her palms up Regina’s stomach, her thighs, under tight skirts that enticingly ride up. Regina breathes heavily and rests her forehead against Emma’s or presses against her shoulder and lets her hesitate and stop.

It’s frustrating.

It’s exhilarating.

Things _are_ changing _._

Snow had left her speechless when she’d managed to convince Emma to go for coffee with her one day.

“I know, ok?” She’d exploded almost as soon as their beverages had been set in front of them. “I know. About you and Regina.” Emma had noted Ruby’s raised eyebrows as she had studiously cleaned the table behind them.

The other woman had stared at Emma for a few moments with a furrowed brown. “It’s going to get easier, isn’t it?”

“What?” Emma had questioned slowly, unsure, totally unprepared for this kind of conversation with Snow.

“You and me? I’m your mother.” Emma cringed but the brunette had pushed on. “We were friends once? And I am on your side. Whatever your side is. Even if that side is Regina. And I thought we might be getting somewhere with helping you.”

Emma had spent the rest of the day feeling like she was in some kind of twilight zone.

Her train of thought changes again.

She thinks of Regina’s body, warm, her mouth finding Emma’s, leaving them both breathless and wanting more. Tongues touching, flicking against each other teasingly, smiling into open mouthed kisses and fingers tracing lips. Jokingly stealing each other’s air.

Archie leans forward, bringing Emma back to the present. His fingers steeple together. “Well, have you considered the fact you’ve never talked about how you escaped?”

“Yeah i….” Emma frowns. “We…” she begins again before trailing off.

Archie blinks at her, patiently, leaning back once more and crossing his legs.

Emma presses her lips into a thin line and thinks hard. She thinks furiously. She remembers with chilling explicitness running for their lives. She remembers the desperation in her chest, trying to escape from between her lungs. She remembers the sharp slap of leaves on her skin, the heavy sound of her breath in her ears and being acutely aware of Regina’s footfall right behind her. Her heart trying to beat out of her chest. Aside from that panicked chase and odd moments of clarity with Regina, smells, warmth, all Emma’s memories of the island have a very hazy quality to them.

“Have you heard of repressed memories, Emma?”

Emma shakes her head.

“Well, some psychologists theorize that traumatic events can lead to your mind unconsciously blocking out certain memories. It’s a… controversial topic. There’s not been that many studies on the matter, however. I think there is something there in this case.” Archie was nodding thoughtfully to himself.

“So... What do we do?”

“Well, I think we should start talking about this. I’ll look into it a bit more. My knowledge of it is a bit rusty, so I will need to do a little research before we delve into it, but I want you to dwell on it. The question remains, however, do you _want_ to know what happened?”

“I… I don’t understand, why wouldn’t I want to know?”

“You’ve been through a of a lot, Emma. You’ve been making good progress. What if this interferes with your progress?”

Emma nods again, suddenly curious, suddenly grappling with a fear deep in her belly, clawing up the back of her throat. What was scarier than realising part of her mind was blocking something out, was the fact that Emma briefly _didn’t_ want to know.

She’d been through hell.

What on earth could have happened that caused her mind to protect itself that was worse than what she’d been through?

“I’ll think about it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s been another comfortable evening, Henry long in bed after a beautiful meal. He’d been overflowing with excitement about a sleep over with Grace the next evening and had kept conversation afloat with what they were going to watch.

He’d eventually gone to bed however, a kiss to each of his mother’s cheeks, and Emma and Regina sit together in the lounge, the fire crackling away. They both have glasses of cider in hand and Emma can feel her lids start to grow heavy. She’s warm and heavy and peaceful in a way she’s not been since she spoke to Archie that morning. She forces her eyes open, his suggestion floating to the fore of her mind once more.

She opens her mouth to speak, but is interrupted by Regina talking first.

“What’s on your mind Emma? You’ve been distracted all evening.”

Emma takes a deep breath and asks what’s been bugging her all night. All through the delicious meal Regina had prepared, through the chatter from Henry. Emma thought she’d been attentive. Apparently not. Not much can escape the brunette, Emma should have known better.

She wonders if now is as good a time as any to broach what’s been keeping her in turmoil, or whether to let the evening pan out as it should. As she desperately wants to. Things are becoming more like a smooth lake surface and it’s a peace Emma is craving. If she starts to talk about this, she’s going to disturb it all again. She’s tired of that chaos. So tired.

But her mouth opens before she can stop herself.

“Regina… how… how did we escape.”

She’s not seen Regina be effected much by talking about the island before but the other woman pales and her eyes close. It’s how she imagines she looks when she’s caught up in fear.

“Regina,” Emma prompts again, her eyebrows drawing together as she notes the other woman’s knuckles whitening around the tumbler in her hand.

“Emma,” Regina breathes, shifting, placing the glass down on the table. She then reaches forward, catching Emma’s hands. “This is something I don’t know if I can talk about yet. I don’t know if you are ready to talk about it.”

“What does that mean?” Emma breathes, her throat tight. She barrels on, unable to stop the ugly mess of emotion bubbling up and out of her mouth. The sudden spike in adrenaline is making her hands shake and she hates the thin, stretched feeling she’s experiencing. Again. _Oh no._  “I’ve done good haven’t I?”

Regina stills at Emma’s words, her eyelids sweeping down for a split second. “Emma…” she says softly.

Emma still feels the word like a punch to the stomach.

“I’ve been trying _so_ hard dammit Regina.” Emma feels sick at the words but she can’t stop herself. She feels like history is repeating itself, feels like she’s been thrown back weeks. Fuck all progress. Fuck everything. “I’m good enough to kiss but not to trust,” Emma stands, slamming her glass down. Some of the liquid spills over her hand onto the table top. “Damnit,” she curses, clenching her fists.

“Emma,” Regina tries to gently slide her fingers around Emma’s wrist, but Emma pulls away.

“Fuck,” Emma presses the heels of her palms into her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she turns to look at the brunette looking contrite on the sofa. “I think I should leave. I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Regina quietly murmurs. “You don’t have to though, you-“

“No I know,” Emma shakes her head, “but I think it would be wise. I don’t feel steady; I don’t feel fucking _safe_.” Emma knows that is a low blow and she swallows the traitorous, acidic taste she can feel at the back of her throat. Regina has been her safe port in the storm, in their storm and she doesn’t deserve those words but they are free in the world now and Emma doesn’t have the energy or stillness to reach out and grab them: to stuff them back behind her teeth with sincerity. She turns and walks from the warm room, the warmth of the eyes on her back, and pulls her boots on, ready to take the cold walk back to the loft.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is it.  
> The final chapter.  
> Thank you everyone who has read and taken the time to let me know what you think. This has been such a challenge to write, and i can only hope i've done them justice.  
> I don't have a beta, so there may be mistakes, but i've hopefully caught them all.  
> Please, enjoy, and let me know what you think - and thank you to everyone who's gone on this journey with me and them.  
> Love you all

She’s back at Archie’s the next evening. Her cheek ticking with how hard she’s grinding her teeth. She’s nervous. Her palms are sweaty. He’d agreed that she needed to be seen sooner than their scheduled appointment and he’d opened his office for her during the evening.

Emma spent the night before tossing and turning. The usual situation when away from Regina. She feels utterly sick and disgusted with herself because of her words last night. Regina didn’t deserve that… Regina didn’t deserve anything bad that had happened, really. Emma spent the night marinating in self-loathing and disgust.

At least she hadn’t woken David and Snow screaming. That was something. She swallows against the ever present taste of bile at the back of her throat.

She was still raw and brittle and full of sharp edges.

“So I’ve consulted some sources, and I think that hypnotherapy might help us delve into your missing memories.”

“Hypnotherapy?”

“It’s a method of hypnosis that can recall repressed memories. Emma, this may not work. It may take more than one session... But this is a starting point. Do you want to proceed?”

“Okay. Anything.” Emma decisively brings the edge of her hand down into her other palm. “I want to do this; I want to fix this. Can we start now or do you need more time?”

“We can begin today, as long as you are certain?”

“I am, Archie, I need to more past this,” Emma looks up with determination.”

Archie takes a small breath and nods, clasping his hands together. “I want you to relax. You can lie down if you wish, or remain sitting. Just relax as much as you can. And I’m going to talk to you about some things which might help you.”

Emma takes a deep breath and moves over to swing her legs up onto the couch. She pulls a cushion under her head, wriggling around a little to get more comfortable. Archie begins to talk. She could feel herself grow heavy, the compelling sound of Archie’s soft voice, the metronome of the clock, the sound of herself breathing. She felt herself sinking. So heavy. Like she could just slide right on through the leather of the couch if she relaxed more.

It’s like.

Being covered in a blanket.

The dimming of sound.

The heaviness of her limbs

Leaves in her face.

Emma languidly reaches for the things simmering below the surface

Fingers outstretched.

 

* * *

 

_Emma rouses, her back screaming at her._

_Ok, everything in her body was screaming at her. Her muscles ache, grazes sting, cuts and bruises pulsed. Everything burned with pain. She groans and arches off the ground, pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle a cry._

_“Hey. Try not to move.” Regina appears by her side, hands hovering over Emma’s battered form. She produced a cold rag from somewhere, pressing it to Emma’s forehead. She grasps at Regina’s forearm._

_“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.” Emma’s voice breaks slightly on the second word, and she can dimly see Regina smirk and shake her head._

_“You’re an idiot.”_

_Emma chokes out a laugh and grasps Regina’s hand, pulling it to her lips. Regina smiled sadly, curving her hand to the blonde’s face, letting her thumb stroke under Emma’s eye. “I’m a charming,” Emma tries to quip before she laughs too hard, laughter breaking into a groan of pain._

_“Yes you are,” Regina continues, fondly._

_They are broken from their quiet moment by the harrowing sound of boots echoing towards them. Emma swallows her fear. There is no room for it here. She’s tired and broken and if she lets herself feel fear then it’s over for her._

_“Ladies,” the sickening lecherous tone coats Emma and she struggles to sit up. Regina shifts to kneel behind her, support for her trembling muscles. “It’s time for a change.” The men line the bars, hooking their arms through, licking their blackened, broken teeth._

_“What do you mean?” Emma tries to sound confident, nonchalant, but the weakness in her voice is as apparent as the lust rolling of these men, greedy eyes studying them like candy._

_A man with a silver tooth grins and volunteers more information. “You put up a good fight but it’s time for a change of…” he breaks off with an ugly smirk and brings his hand up to rub at his chin, “activity.”_

_A cold chill runs through Emma, and she feels Regina stiffen behind her._

_Two men unlock the cell door and step inside, baring their teeth. “If she comes quietly, we won’t hurt you,” they say, addressing Emma, but she hears Regina exhale and clear her throat._

_“What are you going to do with me?”_

_The man with the silver tooth chuckles, a mean, unpleasant sound, that ripples through the others._

_“There are other things to do with women. Far less painful. For us.” He laughs, as though this is the most hilarious joke ever, and the two in the cell step closer with purpose._

_Emma pushes herself to her feet, holding her breath to stop the cry of excruciating pain from breaking free – adrenaline is now coursing through her, her breath coming in quick, short blasts._

_“I don’t think so,” she states, arms out, pushing herself in front of Regina once more. She can’t help that she’s unable to stand tall, stand strong, can’t help that she has to press a hand to her ribs to stop herself turning ashen white from the sheer amount of raging agony burning across her torso._

_She grits her teeth and tries to look threatening. Regina touches the small of her back and she knows she’s failing. The men laugh. And step closer._

_“Enough,” one of them says, and they start to circle Emma, eying her like a rabid dog. More men enter the cell – too many for Emma to possibly hope to fight back-_

_She swings, staggers, hits one with her shoulder and his bark of surprise mingles with her cry of pain._

_“Get off me!” Emma hears as she grunts and pushes herself off. An arm comes from behind and pulls her back, tightening around her neck – a hand claps across her face. She sinks her teeth in, harder and harder – pushing past that point of no return and she gags at the hot iron that coats her tongue. She’s deaf to the shout of pain, feels the spray of warm red, flies into another threat and uses anything at her disposal._

_She cracks her head against his, feels the crunching of what must be his nose – she’s dizzy._

_Can hear her name being shouted desperately, the sounds of another scuffle and Emma is wildly seeking Regina. Her nails tear. Hands tear at her._

_There’s a pressure building inside. The cuff on her wrist burns hot._

_It’s familiar in a way and she’s knows it’s her magic but it’s… more. Fear spikes._

_Knees impacting hard things - shooting pain through her, stealing her breath. There’s blood on her face, in her eyes._

_Everything in her is screaming._

_“Emma!”_

_She grabs at a head of hair and smashes it into rock._

_The unstoppable force inside reaches its crescendo, bubbles over, and she screams and screams until her vocal chords trip her up - the screams of others take over and she’s watching with a clarity she shouldn’t have as the figures clutch at their heads and become an uncoordinated chaotic rabble shrieking as something unseen attacks them._

_Regina is dropped unceremoniously against the wall, sliding down and not moving._

_Emma looks for the invisible attacker and realises her hands are outstretched; fingers claw-like and her face split in a snarl of rage – it’s her, it’s her magic coursing through her._

_She’s detached as she observes the cuff has just gone. It’s not there. She has no explanation other than an abstract image of a parade of her family saying she was made of true love – the most powerful magic they have ground into her._

_The screaming stops and Emma feels the last of her magic fly out of her like the air being sucked out a vessel when a flame is lit. The ground is littered with unmoving bodies, Regina stepping over them without a glance towards her._

_She’s killed._

_She’s killed them all._

 

* * *

 

Emma bolts upright, clutching her chest. The night storms and rain flies against her window but it doesn’t match the maelstrom inside the blond.

She… killed. All of them.

Before she knows what she’s doing she’s outside in the storm. Her chest is beating wildly in her chest and her bare feet are protesting at her running down the street towards answers. The wind and rain tears at her, biting at her cold flesh.

Regina’s door is closed, of course it is: It’s some early hour in the morning and Emma kicks it, magic sparking in the force of her muscles. She stumbles into the darkened hallway, calling out for the brunette. Her feet slip on the now wet hard wood flooring and Emma falls to her knees, cursing as hot tears start to course down her cheeks.

The noise of the wind whistles in through the broken door, flashes of lightning illuminating the sodden figure on the floor. Regina appears at the top of the stairs.

 “I remember!” Emma shouts, scared, angry and horrified all at once. She’s got wild eyes and her hair is plastered to her head from the rain. “I remember what happened!” She keens and curls in on herself, fingers digging into her thighs. “I killed them,” she sobs as Regina is suddenly by her side, kneeling in the cold water. Insistent hands curve to Emma’s cheeks and she’s pulled up, up, until Regina’s dark, knowing eyes are all that Emma can possibly contemplate amongst this terrible, distressing mess.

“Regina,” she whispers, her words somehow not lost in the wild whistling of the weather; the door slamming on its hinges. “What have I done? What kind of _monster_ -” She searches Regina’s face, hoping for salvation.

Regina kisses her, making her mind blissfully blank for a few seconds. Everything fades a little.

“You saved me,” Regina breathes between small, gentle kisses made wet by rainwater and tears. Emma starts to shake her head and pull away but Regina shuffles closer, fingers snaking into wet, tangled tresses. “You saved me, Emma,” Regina continues, pressing her forehead to Emma, her lips to wet cheeks, her mouth meeting the blondes. Emma realises Regina is crying too and a small whimper breaks from her throat. “You saved us both.”

“I love you,” the blonde whispers brokenly. It feels like a weight is lifting from her shoulders as words slip past her teeth. It’s a truth she’s known for so long now and it won’t stay inside.

Regina nods, “I know,” she promises fiercely before finding the blondes mouth with her own again and they are both moaning and clutching at each other with shaking, clumsy limbs. She takes them up to her bedroom in a swirl of purple, the storm and the shattered door forgotten. She grabs Emma at the back of the head and pulls her against her.

“I know,” she repeats as they lose themselves in the harsh breathing and moans of kiss after kiss. She lets her hands roam all over Emma, sneaking under clothes and plucking at hemlines.

“Regina-“ Emma breathes as she pauses and rests her forehead against the brunette. Her head is spinning, too many things all at once clamouring for her attention. She’s _killed._ She’s told Regina how she feels. Regina’s fingers skim up her stomach, pulling shivers from her but she can’t give herself permission to enjoy that right now. Her eyes burn with more tears that just _won’t_ stop falling. “I killed.”

Regina pulls back, searching Emma’s eyes with her own. “Yes you did,” she paused, pressing her lips to Emma’s once more. “But you did it to protect, you did it to _save,_ Emma.”

Emma shakes her head, “I took life. I took so many!”

“Emma!” Regina pushes the blonde backwards gently, sitting her on the edge of the bed. She kneels in front of the distressed woman.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Emma says, voice cracking. She sniffs, aware of how attractive she must look right now, red nose and cheeks from tears and the cold outside. She is cold. The rainwater hasn’t dried off yet.

“By the time I realised you didn’t remember; I didn’t want to be the one who did this to you.” Regina wills Emma to see the truth in it. She runs her palms soothingly up Emma’s forearms, shoulders, neck – lets her hands cup both her cheeks. “Don’t beat yourself up, Emma.”

“But I- “

“Emma-“ Regina utters, part exasperation, part prayer and she surges forward, capturing Emma’s mouth with her own, silencing the other woman. She pushes upwards from where she knelt, hands pushing on Emma’s shoulders to push her down, and climbs on top of the blonde. She needs to feel the other woman now, feel her strength, her warmth. She needs to show the other woman that what she did was not wrong.

“Emma,” she said breathlessly, between kisses, “thank you for protecting me.” She tries to pour her gratitude and all the feelings she’s having into Emma, tries to fill her up with what she’s so desperately needing right now. “I love you,” she repeats, punctuating gentle kisses to Emma’s cheek, forehead, down to her neck.

Regina can feel the fire flickering within and she lets it take over, lets her body do the talking for her. She bites down gently on Emma’s neck, relishing the gasp from the blonde, the sudden grasping at her arms as Emma’s moans and her back arches slightly.

“God, Regina,” the blonde sighs with pleasure, her breath catching in her chest from the warring emotions of desire, want, need – fighting with absolute distress but Regina is relentless.

Regina smiles into Emma’s neck and sinks her teeth in harder, pushes her tongue against the blonde’s carotid, relishes the strong pulse she can feel there.

“Oh god!” Emma really grasps at her now, moving her head aside to make more room for Regina, she tightens her fingers on Regina’s arms and whispers what she needs. “More, please, god Regina. I need more.”

The other woman practically purrs at the need in Emma’s voice as she gives voice for once, to what she needs. Emma has been so focussed on Regina for so long, even with her transgressions that they are still going to work through.

Regina sits up, pulling the blonde with her, and then steps away completely. She ignores the blondes cry of protest and makes quick work of stripping her soaked pyjamas off before doing the same for Emma. “Is this okay?” She asks and smiles gently at the silent, enthusiastic nod she receives even though the other woman fidgets, her hands drifting in front of her before she crosses her arms over her chest.

They come back together, shy almost. Emma looks down, unable to make eye contact with Regina until the brunette tuts and grasps Emma’s chin, pulling her head up.

“Look at me, Emma Swan. I don’t want you to hide from me, ever.”

Emma swallows, her face cycling through a myriad of emotions. She feels like the tears that are now starting to slow could return, full force, the strength of love she feels for this woman almost too much for her to handle. She feels, bare, naked. Stripped of her skin and almost unbearably sensitive. She gasps as Regina pulls her to her once more, a hand at the back of her head, one at her hip, and groans into Regina’s mouth as she holds her there, a scant inch away.

There’s something so intimate about that moment just before a kiss, where both participants are simply breathing each other in, stealing each other’s air. The anticipation of what is to come is a delicacy to be savoured, something wholly different yet no less enjoyable than the act, the art of kissing someone.

Emma closes the gap, emboldened, and her arms uncross, go around Regina, pulling her closer. She loses herself in Regina’s mouth and the soft noises she makes as their tongues touch, as she gently nips at full lips. She’s always loved kissing Regina, it’s something she’s dreamt about, amidst everything else.

“I love you,” she reiterates, pausing for a moment to simply hold Regina, putting her face in dark hair and simply breathing the other woman in. They stay like that for a few minutes, just savouring the warmth, the intimacy, until Regina pulls back once more and cups Emma’s cheeks.

“I’m going to take you to bed now, Emma.”

Emma mouth drops open, tears shimmering in her eyes and she nods, wordless, and lets Regina lead her to the bed once more.

Regina pushes Emma down gently, climbing onto the bed after her and settles herself against the younger woman. She reaches out and brushes the tear tracks on Emma’s cheeks with her thumb, before moving up, on all fours and kissing them with her lips.

Emma moans quietly as Regina sets about kissing each inch of her skin, taking her time, paying attention to each freckle and scar. Regina thinks for a second about passing her hands hurriedly over Emma as they stumbled out the caves together, trying to heal as much as she could, to help the blonde walk a bit easier. She was never trained to heal, it was something Rumpelstiltskin had deemed irrelevant and It had only been her own gumption and will that had clumsily forced her magic to do something it was not used to.

She presses her lips to Emma’s belly, again and again, taking random paths, the skin soft and warm, her breasts brushing lower and both women pause to breath in deeply before Regina continues. She strokes her finger across Emma’s belly button, smirking at the hitch in the blonde’s breath.

Down she goes, further down, making sure to scrape her teeth gently across Emma’s hipbone before sucking on it just as delicately. She hears the blonde sigh with pleasure, her breathing the brunettes name as Regina carries on down one thigh, one leg, lifts and kisses the arch of Emma’s foot.

“You are loved, Emma Swan,” Regina says softly, resting her cheek against Emma’s foot. “You are wanted here.” Lifting Emma’s other foot, she kisses that one too. “You are appreciated.” She presses her fingers into the tendons and delights in the gasp from Emma at her words, in the deep breath the other woman took. Regina settled between Emma’s legs, letting her leg go, and she leaned down to kiss the skin just under the blonde’s navel before slowly trailing her lips down, down, down to where she meets slightly coarse hair and Emma groans and shifts.

“You don’t have to,” Emma says, rising onto her elbows. Her tears have stopped, her chest heaves and her eyes are dark with desire.

Regina doesn’t think she’s ever seen her so beautiful.

She gives her answer by moving further down, her nose pressing into dark blonde hair, and she takes a deep breath. Emma smells incredible. Regina’s mouth waters.

Emma’s back hits the bed with a moan as Regina runs her tongue gently down her labia, before she slides her tongue between and bites back her own groan of pleasure at the intense taste that greets her. Regina takes another slow swipe with her tongue, pressing deeper between Emma’s legs and closing her eyes briefly at how wet the blonde is.

“Regina-“ Emma chokes out, and Regina looks up briefly to see the blonde with an arm flung over her face, her other hand fisted tightly in the bedsheets. She takes her time in settling down further, laying between Emma’s open thighs as she pushes them further apart. The blonde willingly accommodates and Regina spreads the blondes sex with one hand before running her tongue from    opening to clit in one smooth, wide stroke. She slips her tongue inside, as deep as she can reach and can’t help but smirk as Emma gasps, her thighs tensing either side of Regina’s head. “Oh god,” she whispers as Regina slides two fingers in to the hilt, curling them back and withdrawing slowly. Emma’s hips try to follow, and Regina chuckles and presses a kiss to the inside of the blonde’s thigh before setting an intense, slow, deep pace – not stopping until Emma’s feet are curling and her back is arching off the bed, a cry of Regina’s name leaving her lips and she falls back, sated and calm.

And then Regina makes love to Emma again and again, until they fall asleep, exhausted and sweaty and tangled together whilst the storm still rages outside, ignored.

 

* * *

 

Emma wakes, her cheek pressed against the hard line of Regina’s collarbone. Her hand rests on Regina’s bare stomach, spread out. Possessive. Protective.

She feels at peace. There is everything still there, of course, bubbling away at the back of her mind, but it’s retreated way back, and for once, she’s utterly calm. She feels Regina’s heartbeat, the rhythmic thumping under her ear. It’s one of the most comforting things she’s ever heard and it takes her back to darker times but it doesn’t rattle her stomach when she thinks about the tactile sensation of the hard rock under her and not the soft mattress.

She knows she’s lucky.

She’s extremely grateful, but she also knows to not take this for granted.

They are ever-changing, non-static human beings and who knows where their futures will go.

Regina makes a small noise in the back of her throat and shifts, rolling onto her side away from Emma. The blonde slowly scoots closer, tucking in behind the other woman, fitting herself against the sleeping woman. She lets her arm fall over the woman’s frame, letting her fingers brush her soft, warm skin.

She dozes lightly, relishing the rhythmic expansion of Regina’s ribcage, the subtle shifts of her body as she begins to wake to the birds singing outside and the muted light streaming over the bed.

“Hey,” Emma traces the brunette’s hairline with her lips.

“Hey,” Regina whispers back.

“Do you need some space?”

Regina is silent for a moment. “I’m ok right now.”

“Ok.” Emma accepts. She’s so _painfully_ aware of Regina’s consent in anything now, she will try every day to be respectful of her wants. If Regina ever asks her to go… she will.

“I need you to promise me, that you will tell me to back off if you _ever_ feel uncomfortable ok? I’m begging you, Regina.”

The brunette turns over, bracing her head on a hand. “I need _you_ to give me your word that if you are ever feeling unsettled, rattled, whatever – that you will tell me, and not hide how you are feeling.” She fingertips down Emma’s cheek, cupping her chin.

“I will,” Emma promises, eyes shining bright with tears. Good tears.

“And I promise too,” Regina nods vigorously.

Emma leans forward to steal a kiss, to seal their promises with their lips. It’s not going to be perfect, it’s not going to be easy and she has a long way to go. _They_ have a long way to go.

But.

She’s going to make it.

They are going to make it.


End file.
